The Noble Eightfold Path
by Sight Pirate
Summary: Master Splinter has passed away, and the brothers have gone on separate paths. What has set them apart? And can the lessons their father taught them bring them back together, or is it too late for the mean, green fighting machine?
1. Right Speech

Howdy FF! Long time, no see!

This is my first TMNT story (and first non-Spyro story for that matter) but I've been drafting this story off-and-on for the past couple years, so I hope you enjoy it!

For the canon-obsessed, I consider this to take place 4-5 months after the 2007 movie, though there are references to the 2003 series. As a kid, I assumed there was some kind of continuity between the two, so suspend your disbelief and just roll with it.

For those unfamiliar with Buddhism, the Noble Eightfold Path is a bit like the Buddhist Ten Commandments. I'm no expert on the religion (if you are and I've portrayed something disrespectfully feel free to message me!) but I figure the Turtles, being culturally Japanese, would have been taught some version of the eight traits.

Anyways, the story's broken up with each brother having 2 chapters focusing on how they learn to fulfill one of the eight traits, and potentially two epilogues for the "two acquired factors". Thanks for reading!

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RIGHT SPEECH

Three months.

Three whole fuckin' months since I'd seen any of my brothers. Needless to say, all the positives of being a bachelor had worn off after the first couple of weeks. Life alone turned into a daily routine of working out, watching TV, working out more, and playing the same boring video games, only broken up by occasional runs to the surface and the couple times a week when Casey called up. It got monotonous real fast, almost as bad as the endless training and meditating before I moved out. The only differences now were I slept as late as I wanted and didn't have any nagging big brother or sensei to hide the helmet and suit from when I got back late from smashing heads up top.

Three months, to the day, since I walked outta what we once called the lair. To my credit, that made it four months to the day since Master Splinter passed away. Hell, I wasn't even the first one to leave. Leo left even before we made arrangements for the body, didn't say a word to no one. You'd think me being the oldest in the house was a decent enough arrangement, but I couldn't last a month with two moping little brothers darkening the whole place down. Don't get me wrong; I mourned in my own way. Obviously I got torn up, but not to the same level as those two. It wasn't the same as before, living like that in the same place…I packed my shit up, took my Nightwatcher helmet off the shelf in Splinter's room and found a cozy sewer junction in Brooklyn where I wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. My own studio apartment, decked out with only the finest TV, hammock, and weight set the junkyard had to offer.

Three months of bullshit. My phone buzzed from the coffee table, and I heaved the warmed steel bar off my chest, clinking it back on the rack. Snatching a somewhat rank towel from bench below me, I wiped the sweat off my brow as I padded over to the "living room" to grab the phone.

"Case." I huffed, still out of breath.

"Raph."

"When are we out, guy? I'm getting restless down here."

"When aren't you restless, dude?" he chuckled.

"You'd be just as itching to get out if you were holed up in my dungeon. Why're you playing so hard to get, bro? You want me to meet you somewhere?"

"About that…Raph. April caught me sneaking out."

I couldn't hold back a laugh. "So? What is she, your mom?"

"You know, it's starting to seem like it. Cooking me dinner, paying the bills…Things are pretty different now that she ain't busting her ass at work."

"Ape isn't working? Shit, since when?"

"Since when, my ass! I told you three days ago, man! Don't you listen to anyone's problems but your own?"

"Hey, right now my only problem is that you're up there braiding your hair and painting your fucking fingernails while I'm stuck here doing absolutely jack shit!"

"Cool it, shell-head, sorry I don't get to sit around and jerk off all day like your sorry ass."

In my head, I could see myself crunching the phone in my fingers and hurling it into a wall, or cursing out Casey for leaving me hanging. But as I set the towel in my other hand down on the table, my mind took me back to a few years before, wiping myself with the same towel after one of countless exercises where we had to sneak up on Splinter and blow out the flame of a candle before he could stop us. As usual, Leo was the winner of that exercise, and being his brown-nosing self, he forsook gloating for staying smugly quiet as Sensei briefed us on how we could improve. Mikey, on the other hand, came within inches of beating Leo multiple times, and was running his mouth about how he deserved to have won. For that, Splinter gave him a whole week's punishment of cleaning the bathroom.

"Silence is the ninja's first weapon." He lectured us all, after having Mikey apologize. "And this is deeper than just combat. You will find that, in countless situations throughout life, the righteous thing to say is nothing at all."

"Sorry." I mumbled back into the phone.

"Listen, you know I want to be out on the streets with you. Since April ain't working as much, I've had to pick up night shifts at the warehouse, loading trucks and stuff. It ain't easy work, man. I'd way rather be busting up some Purple Dragons with my best friend any day."

A grin snuck across my face when he said that. "Huh." I felt like he had more to say.

"I haven't told you this yet, Raph, but…Ape is pregnant, man."

My eyes practically fell out of my head. "No shit?"

"Bro…A lot of shit is happening real fast. This means we've got to pay for doctor's appointments, new furniture, hospital bills. And I'll be damned if I let her bring my kid into the world if we ain't married first. That means on top of work and the baby, I have to find the time and the money for that, and the ring…We're only kids, dude! No chance am I ready to be a dad yet, or a husband for that matter! My work's cut out for me. I love her more than anything, and I know it's all worth it, but there's only so much time in a day. If it means I've got to see you a little less and take it easy on the vigilante stuff for a while, then I'm sorry, Raph. It ain't like I'm never gonna see you again."

"Don't worry about it, Case." I took a deep breath, trying to simmer down my anger at the thought of not seeing him for more than a few days. "You're gonna be a great dad."

"Thanks. That means a lot coming from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I couldn't help but huff a bit.

"Well, I was never that close with my pops. Good guy, worked hard, but we never really connected. You, on the other hand, got a great dad. He'd have given the world for you."

"Yeah. You're right." I murmured. "Anyway, tell Ape I said congratulations. And don't forget to invite me to the shower."

"Ha, you know it, man. I'll see you soon, alright."

"Alright. See ya."

The phone went silent, and I set it back down. My eyes drifted to the mannequin wearing my suit and helmet.

Even by the time I suited up and made it to the rooftops, I was still thinking about what Casey said. I still thought about Splinter pretty often, but usually did my best to distract myself. The relatively quiet night, crime-wise, didn't help me in that way, so I was perched up like a gargoyle looking over Soho, silent still except for the crackle of the vanishing cigarette between my fingers. I had picked up a couple bad habits since moving out on my own. For some reason beyond me, I laughed when I imagined the reaming out I'd get if Splinter ever caught me smoking.

Casey was right. I did have a great father.

The cigarette fell from my hand as the sound of an explosion echoed over the rooftops behind me. My head snapped around to see a cloud of smoke rising from a high-rise in Chinatown. I popped my helmet back over my head and flew to the next roof, itching to find some excitement.


	2. Right Concentration

RIGHT CONCENTRATION

Even after the first couple weeks at Justice Force Headquarters, the crime alert sirens still shook me. I snapped out of bed in shock, sure to grab my cape and weapons on the way out of my room. Had Nano never heard of a "silent" setting for that late at night? Did superheroes not need beauty sleep too? Maybe Nobody; on late night trips to the bathroom down the hall, I'd seen Nobody's door open, with Law Abiding Citizen somehow on the TV every time I'd looked in. Maybe all the veterans around here are used to the blaring horn and flashing lights that went off anything larger than a gas station robbery went down in the city, but I was the freshest hero in the house by a good number of months. Every time, it still gave me a heart attack.

If Donnie were around, I'd ask him if being prone to heart attacks is genetic. That'd probably be followed up with asking him if we're genetically related to Splinter at all. Our dad had faced the gnarliest of foes and opened countless cans of whoop-ass for as long as we knew him, and yet, after that fateful morning about three months ago where the regular whistle of his teapot hadn't woken us up, Don told us that the greatest ninja since the passing of Hamato Yoshi was sent to meet his master again by something as small as a heart attack. After all his years protecting us, there was nothing we could do to protect him. It's still tough to accept that, but I don't think any of us took it as hard as Leo did.

"Turtle Titan, Raptarr, we've got a burning building full of people to save between Five Points and Chinatown." Silver Sentry shook me out of my reflections for a second, but I spaced back out just as quickly as he briefed us on the details. It's a really bad habit of mine, always has been, spacing out and getting caught up in my own thoughts, even as we took to the streets for a challenging mission. It's only gotten especially bad since Splinter passed away. I was the one who knocked on the thin paper door to his bedroom, and peeked in first when he didn't answer. The image of how still he was, how at peace he looked…it sticks with me.

Silver Sentry and Raptarr were in full flight, and I hit the rooftops, grappling hook in hand. Up ahead, smoke was curling off the roof of the high-rise like the sticks of nag champa Splinter used to burn almost non-stop in the lair. Truth be told, I hadn't even seen incense since The Ancient One brought some from Japan to "purify" the lair when he came to take Splinter's body. The only one of us who was really ever as into it as Splinter was Leo, and he left even before that. None of us ever felt the urge to burn any after than; it just wouldn't be the same.

Perched across the street from the burning building, I took a few seconds to examine what happened. The fire must have started in the penthouse, because it hadn't spread more than three or four floors down from the top. The fire department seemed to be getting most people out of the rest of the building, but it was up to us to make sure no one was left in the flames. This wasn't the first fire in town since I joined up with the Force, but it was the first one I was on duty for. Seeing the shrapnel of the top floors scattered in the streets, the silhouettes rushing onto the street in the flashing lights, it was a lot for a rookie like myself to take in, even having seen what I'd seen with my brothers. Any major loss of life still gives me the creeps, no matter how many times I've lived through it.

The rush of air slapped me back into focus as Silver Sentry and Raptarr flew overhead and into the open wall of the top floor. Being a superhero and fighting alongside the Justice Force was like living in a comic book, a dream come true, but the vibe of doing what I did without my brothers behind me still felt off. Sure, Silver Sentry was the public face of the Force, and Metalhead was a veteran leader, but it still felt like I was fighting alongside peers, not formed in a unit. After a lifetime of being trained to act as one part of a lean, green fighting machine, playing the part of the Turtle Titan left me feeling unsure of myself.

As my fingers traced over the rope and hook on my belt, I remembered the final rematch of the Battle Nexus, Splinter prepping me for what would be my championship win.

"I'm nervous, sensei. If I mess up once…it was all for nothing."

"There is no point in entering a battle with your body if your mind is not also present, my son." He chided me. "This is why meditation is just as important a part of your training as combat is. All you need to do to win is focus."

I drew in a deep breath through my nose, letting it linger before gently pushing it out through my mouth. The crackling of the burning building and crumbling of walls and ceilings was all my mind registered, as I whipped the grappling hook and swung myself up to the inferno. Landing gracelessly, I noticed the building wasn't laid out like a usual high-rise. This penthouse floor was a wide-open space, full of tables covered in shattered glassware and smashed computers. Underneath one of the tables, a man huddled himself into a ball, trying to filter the smoky air through the once-white fabric of his lab coat. Giving him a rough shake, he grabbed my hand, and I waved Raptarr over, who scooped the man up and darted out the window to carry him to safety.

Hunching over to get a better view of the floor, I heard a thundering crunch from behind me, and rolled forward to see a support beam had crashed through the wall only inches away from where I stood. The collapse threw a cloud of ash into the air, and I pulled my mask off my head and tied it around my nose and mouth like a bandana. Still, the smoke and heat burned my eyes, so I spotted a hole in the floor and pounced down to the next level. Here, the air was a bit clearer, and I spied a few more survivors under the lab benches and in the cabinets along the walls. Carrying one in my arm like a groom on a wedding day, I lobbed the grappling hook one floor up and tried to pull us up. The beam it wrapped around collapsed like a twig, crashing through the ceiling above us and wrecking the floor next to me. Throwing the man to a safe distance, I tucked myself into my shell like a cannonball and braced to hit the floor below me.

That floor crumbled like papier-mâché too, and when I finally came to, I dizzily looked up and saw I was four stories down from where I entered the building. Here, the fire didn't rage quite as hard yet, but I noted my unexpected entry brought a heap of burning rubble down with me. The door to the stairs was left open, telling me whoever was on the floor hopefully left when they became aware of the fire. Brushing the ash off my cape, I dashed toward the stairs and ran up, hoping to catch Raptarr or the Silver Sentry so I could make a quick escape. Not wanting to leave anyone behind, I kicked open the door to the floor I had fallen through, watching pieces of wall and ceiling crumble as the fire spread downward. A glint of metal and a faint grunt from underneath a fallen pillar caught my attention before I turned back to the stairs. Squatting underneath its free end, I pushed the massive pole up and rolled it off my shoulders.

"You okay, mister…" I turned to see my own face looking back at me on his polarized visor and shiny steel armor. "…Nightwatcher?"

Not eliciting a response, I stifled my excitement at meeting the vigilante hero and wonder as to where he had disappeared to for the past few months. No point in fangirling when a building's collapsing around you. Struggling to get an arm under his weighty metal armor, I was barely able to throw him over my shoulder and make my way to the stairs, stretching my legs out to prepare them for the twenty-five story struggle down to safety. Not too adjusted to his weight, I tripped a bit and caught my step on the second step. His mask clanged on the ground behind me and dribbled down the stairwell like a bottle cap.

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Thanks for reading! Sorry about how short these last two have been, but I promise the length will vary.

Please review!


	3. Right Livelihood

RIGHT LIVELIHOOD

I suppose I deserved the interruption for forsaking sleep for so long. Normally I'm pretty nocturnal; the only thing that'd deter me from my work was Leo or Sensei telling me to get out of the lab and get some rest. On my own now, nothing stopped me from working into the morning, at least for a day or two at a time. I had been at work for almost forty-eight hours, happy to finally find some comfort in between the sheets, when the phone stirred me from my slumber.

"Karai?" I mumbled, rubbing the crust from my eyes. "What's going on?"

"The lab on Baxter Street, it's up in smoke." She said curtly.

"Are you serious? This is the third one!"

"I wanted to make sure you weren't there when it happened."

"No, I…I needed a break. I'm safe in my apartment. We've been getting really close to breaking down the formula, so I shut the place down for the night. Why…you don't think I shut it down incorrectly, do you?"

"Not at all, Donatello. This is beyond accidents. Someone clearly doesn't want us cracking the secret to Mr. Winter's immortality. Two boats from Central America have been hijacked, and three labs have been sabotaged. It must be enemy action."

"Well, the experimental phase is practically done, and all the data is backed up on my flash drive. With the proper equipment, it'll only take three or four days to get back to where we were."

"That is good news, but I'm afraid our organization's budget is only getting tighter. It may take weeks to replace the equipment lost in this fire. Plus, we need to find a new source for the stone material; sending more ships to Mexico just isn't economically possible."

"Understandable. There may be some things I can retrieve from my old lab that'll cut down your costs."

"I appreciate it. You don't need to come into work tomorrow; I'll let you know where our new facilities will be soon."

"Thanks, Karai." I clicked the phone shut.

As much as my body craved to go back to sleep, I had a feeling it wasn't possible anymore. The place I was working just five hours ago was no more, and if I had gone for another cup of coffee and not left, I would be too. I'd been close to the face of death before, but it didn't stop me from feeling shaken. Trying to focus that energy into something productive, I rolled out of bed and grabbed a flashlight and the hologram projector on my desk. Clipping it onto my belt, the small box powered on and cloaked me in my disguise. Whenever I wasn't in the safety of my own apartment or alone in the lab, I was Dr. Betto Bardi, complete with a nametag on my lab coat and a contrived Italian accent. The only one of my coworkers who knew I wasn't actually the rotund, redheaded human I saw in the mirror was Karai.

Making sure to lock the door behind me, I strolled to the elevator and clicked the button for the ground floor. Living aboveground was by far the best perk of my employment situation. The apartment wasn't anything spectacular, but just to see the sun and live like a human every day was exhilarating, a taste of childhood dreams about what it'd be like to be normal. Typically, I'd take the subway to get all the way to Midtown, but a subway is no place for any civilized person past midnight, and it'd been too long since I'd walked the sewers. Making sure no cameras or pedestrians could spot me, I darted into the alley behind my building and jostled the manhole cover loose, sliding down the ladder before anyone could see.

I deactivated the hologram projector and flicked the flashlight on, feeling right back at home after months away from the dark, dank tunnels. The last time I'd been here, I'd have never imagined I'd work for the Foot Clan. Technically, I didn't; my position was a "consulting private contractor", but that quickly turned into taking over Karai's whole pet project. Truthfully, I'd been curious about how Max Winters and the stone generals could live so long ever since we first contended with them, and Karai's invitation to come aboard her investigation into the matter presented me with the opportunity to escape the loneliness of the lair. Accepting our former enemy's offer was humbling, for sure, but once Mikey took up the Justice Force's offer to join their team, I felt useless just toying around in my lab all day. Working with Karai gave me purpose, however dubious the purpose was.

Being left all alone made me feel a little betrayed, but I couldn't blame Mikey for leaving. Becoming a superhero had been his dream ever since he could pick up a comic book, and he deserved an opportunity to lift himself out of the depressive funk we were all in after Splinter's passing. As for Raph…I can't say I didn't expect him to leave either. Hell, he'd probably have left even if Master Splinter were still around. When Leo was training abroad, Raph all but disappeared anyways, spending every day holed up in his room and every night God knows where. No, the move that really left me feeling so betrayed was Leo disappearing practically the day after Splinter passed. For all his talk of being our leader, he disappeared when we needed him the most…when I needed him the most.

Like with almost everything else that goes wrong in the world, I could tell Leo blamed himself for what happened. Always playing the part of the martyr. But why? Splinter went silently and peacefully, and there's only so much one can do to treat cardiac arrest. What were we supposed to do, walk into a hospital with a giant mutant rat on a stretcher? As hard as it was to know my father wouldn't be with us anymore, over time, I'd accepted that he was old and was due to pass soon enough. A rat rarely lives past five years, even in captivity, and though I've theorized the mutagen brought our lifespans closer to that of a human, no man or beast is immune to time and fatigue. He'd lived a long and full life, devoted himself to training us and teaching us how to live. So where did Leo get off, thinking he could ignore all that and run off into the night?

I had my theories, but still couldn't justify it. Just when he and I were getting closer than ever, he panicked and threw everything we had away. Abandoned me with stone-cold Raph and sorrow-drowned Mikey, thinking I could get along fine without him. It was unfair…but if the last four months had taught me anything, it's that there's no use complaining about the cards life's dealt. Finally approaching the familiar sewer junction, I opened the rusted control box and entered the passcode. The tunnel echoed with gears grinding and the wall sliding aside to reveal what, for so long, I had called home. Making sure to rearm the security system behind me, I flicked the lights on and took in what the lair looked like after months of disuse, covered in dust and empty of all sound and life. It washed me with simultaneous nostalgia and gloom. Every pipe and pizza box reminded me of countless moments with my brothers and father. I attempted to shake it off; sentimentality wouldn't help me with my research.

Powering up the computers in my lab, I plugged my flash drive into the main port and opened a few programs. When the research started, I was using a molecular scanner and GPS map application to find out where, if anywhere, there was matter matching the makeup of the stone shards Karai and I had retrieved from Mr. Winters and his generals. However, the actual harvesting of its "immortality" properties wouldn't be possible until he had more of the stone, and a new lab's worth of technology that I didn't have down there in the lair. That meant I had ample time on my hands, which in my recent frame of mind, wasn't a good thing. Heeding Karai's message that I could take some time off, I opened Google Chrome and browsed around aimlessly for the first time in what felt like ages.

Everyone has certain things they do to distract themselves when there's too much on their mind. Leo dove straight into what bothered him with meditation, Raph tuned it out by abusing his punching bag, Mikey (though it was rare when he had too much going on mentally) plunged into his world of comics and video games, and I buried myself in the lab. Combine my tendency to handle stress in that way with the stress I'd been under from the family falling apart, and you can imagine why I'd been working so hard as of late. Even though I was still sitting in front of the computer, it felt like a vacation to simply read some news articles and scroll through art archives. One headline caught my eye: "Rare Pond Bacteria Turns CO2 Into Biofuel". Sustainable energy had always been moderately interesting to me, but never took priority over my other research.

With a spark of ingenuity, I searched the web for the sequenced genome of the bacteria from the article, wrote a quick script to convert the genetic code into a sequence that could be read by my GPS locator map from work, and hit "search". In a few moments, a faint smattering of red was cast over the tundra of Siberia, Canada, and a few pockets of New Zealand. The prospect of eliminating the world's dependence on fossil fuel with something as simple as pond scum was exhilarating, in both scientific and economic ways. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep getting to me, but seeing the potential to change the world laid out in front of me made me excited for what felt like the first time in years.

Zooming in on various locations across the map, I began to consider my work with Karai. Sure, the science captivated me and distracted me, but wasn't there something better I could be using my intellect for? With the app on my screen that her scientists programmed, I could be changing the world for the better…not finding some way to make Foot soldiers invincible. Sure, she had lured me in by saying the research would be for medicine, but in my gut I knew that was a stretch. She was probably just pulling the wool over my eyes, trying to persuade me to come aboard her team so I could have a chance at bringing my dad back to life. From the research we'd completed so far, there was very little chance it could bring the dead back to life, but would certainly have the potential to make some strong armor or thick skin. Realistically, I ignored the implications so I could do science for science's sake. But how irresponsible was that?

Piecing my actions over the past months together, I sighed deeply and dragged the cursor to send the world spinning. Was I working for the Foot to get back at my family? What would happen to the world if I let this research continue? What ever made me think I could trust Karai?

Feeling a bit mischievous, I opened my phone and sent her a text.

"Found traces of the stone specimen in Northern Canada. Advise sending an expedition crew immediately."

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Thanks for reading!

I know it was subtle, but there are definitely some Tcestual themes that will play a part in the story (nothing horribly explicit; I wouldn't deceive you with the T-rating) so if you're not a fan, you may not enjoy the next few chapters.

Please review, and if you're a Spyro fan, check out my novel-length story "The Legend of Spyro: Daybreak"!


	4. Right Intention

Sup readers?

This chapter may be triggering to anyone who's dealt with suicidal thoughts, and contains significantly more foulmouth language than the others. I promise, I wasn't raised to talk that way, it's just for art's sake!

Thanks for keepin' on keepin' on, and please gimme some reviews!

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RIGHT INTENTION

The whole trip felt like suicide. Maybe that was part of the appeal. From stowing away in a jet's landing gear, (on a much longer and colder flight than my last one from Central America) to hiking all the way to Ozernovskiy, to stealing the rowboat from the poor Koryak fisherman (who was all too eager with his rifle), I felt I was clinging to the edge of life, and still had hours of rowing ahead of me. Now that the sun was starting to approach the horizon, I could make out the outline of the island I was looking for: a perfect volcanic cone, rising out of the sea like the fin of some leviathan frozen in place.

Every tendon in my shoulders and back groaned out with fatigue, begging to rest or at least slow down. I gave in, leaning back on my shell so my eyes were locked on the infinite purple of the northern sky, untarnished by human lights. This place was nothing like New York; other than the boundless lapping of waves around me and the occasional distant calls from seabirds, all I could hear were my own thoughts and ragged breath. Having been surrounded by my family for practically all my life, even my time in the jungle hadn't fully gotten me used to the sensation of being so very alone.

According to the books in Splinter's room, Oyakoba Island was home to the last temple of an ancient order of monks. The Japanese used to write poetry about the beauty of the island, with its symmetrical shadow and prominence rivaling even Mount Fuji. The temple there was practically forgotten in the centuries since it was built, left off maps, and the only refuge of some endangered spiritual ways. The monks were said to associate with "kami", or non-human creatures like myself, practice no form of violence or aggression, suppress all emotions, and swear to a life of celibacy. That was the selling point for me.

After what happened back home, I needed to get a handle on myself. I'd always been the stoic one, at least I thought so, and did whatever I needed to do to bring honor to the family. One bad decision, one night of no self-control, and look how the universe repaid me…by taking away my father and sensei. Karma, or fate, or what have you, is cruel. The whole situation had been uncharacteristic of me. I thought I was in control of my emotions and urges. Well, I guess I thought wrong. This was when I needed a sensei the most, to talk me down from my frame of mind and walk me through how I can act honorably, but not only were my actions way too shameful to talk about with Splinter, there was no way I could talk to him ever again.

I'd had a headache since before I left Manhattan. And a stomachache for almost as long, but I think that's from not eating since Kuril Lake. I remember reading about some groups in America that would swear off meat and flavorful food in an attempt to suppress their inner fires and live at peace, so maybe eating nothing at all would have the same effect. To be honest, a strong part of me was okay with not surviving the journey. I knew it was immoral to even think about, but I felt like I deserved it, just as samurai would commit seppuku if they brought shame unto their soul. I'd done that and brought it upon my little brother too. In a few minutes, I'd stop worrying so much and never have to feel the way I felt then again. Whatever happened after that was beyond me, but it had to be better than the status quo. Who knows; maybe I'd even meet Master Splinter again and get the chance to apologize.

I splashed the icy seawater into my face, feeling the sting in my eyes not unlike tears. As it dripped down off of my lips and chin, I noticed I was hyperventilating. My heart practically burst out of my chest. I rested my head in my hands, snorting the frigid water out of my nose and starting to shiver a bit. Any more time letting my mind fall into that train of thought, and all I would do is bring even more dishonor upon myself. I am Hamato Leonardo, son of Hamato Splinter, pupil of Hamato Yoshi, and probably one of the last four in that line to walk the earth. Who even knew if my brothers would continue being ninja? The last time I'd been away from them, Mikey was in a foam mascot head, Raph was…technically practicing ninjitsu, but still living like a fucking goon, and Don was a working a damned tech support hotline. That was when they still had Splinter around to at least attempt to keep them in line. Who knows how long they'd last as just the three of them?

Suddenly, I realized I was acting in the way I'd always chastised Raph for. Running away to try and sort out my issues on my own was unbelievably selfish. As if I hadn't hurt my family enough already, I'd left them to fend for themselves and drifted off to the end of the earth in some haze of depression and angst like I was living in a fucking soap opera. I'd let my mind run wild into even darker corners of immorality than it already had, and come way too far to even think about turning back now. Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

I shook my head, beginning to understand what I'd done by fucking wandering the globe, feeling sorry for myself like I was Cain. Even worse, I'd come ninety-nine percent of the way to a near-deserted island in the damned Arctic Ocean where I could never practice ninjitsu again. How was that going to make up for anything I'd done? Master Splinter always said a leader never goes into a mission without a plan from beginning to end. Well, I guessed I blew it again. All I needed was to find a way to not feel so fucking horny all the time, and now I was going to freeze my tail off in the place where my clan's native school of martial art would die and I probably would too.

I had to admit, the whole ordeal sounded like the best way I could tame these unnatural urges, but I then decided there was no chance I'd stay there any longer than that took. I could swear allegiance to another temple for some time, be it days or decades, but my ultimate purpose in life was to keep the Hamato clan's ninjitsu alive. I love my family, that much was sure, and my true allegiance would always be to them. That's why I'd come all the way across that planet, so I could be the big brother they deserved.

At that moment, watching shades of blue face into the sky as the sun rose behind the mountain, I vowed to never think about ending my life again. I took this journey for a purpose, though I may not have realized it when I started, and in some amount of time my mission would be complete. The thought of returning home one day and being reunited with my brothers, in a state where I wouldn't have to worry about what I'd do to them, is what drove me to keep floating toward the island before me.

I grabbed the fishing pole that the boat's previous owner must have left aboard, whipping the line back then hearing it whirr forward until the lure hit the surf with a delicate plink. Hopefully I'd catch some breakfast before I landed and have enough strength to make the climb to the temple. As the boat drifted closer to my destination and the mountain seemed to grow tenfold in size, I realized just how long of a hike I still had ahead of me.


	5. Right Action

RIGHT ACTION

The first thing I noticed when I finally came to was how scorched my nose and throat felt. I never should have started smoking. The sharp ache in my neck as I tried to turn my head reminded me just where I had been the night before, and that cigarettes weren't totally the reason every breath made me wince. I raised a hand to rub the sleep out of my eyes, but was greeted by the clink of metal on glass. Through the dark tint of my visor, I could make out the unfamiliar couch cushions I was laying on and the orange-painted walls of the room around me. I hadn't made it home last night? So what happened?

"You up?" a voice from somewhere in the room asked me.

"Sure don't feel like it." I grunted back. "Where the fuck am I?"

"Justice Force HQ." I rolled over with a groan to lock eyes with the familiar figure, wrapped in a stupid cape and hood I hadn't seen in years. How hadn't I heard Mikey was playing superhero now? "Name's Turtle Titan, by the way. I wasn't about to leave a vigilante like yourself somewhere that the cops could find you after I pulled you out of that building." Vigilante? I guessed Casey had been wrong before; not everyone could tell the Nightwatcher was just a turtle wrapped in tin foil. That meant, if I played it cool enough, Mike wouldn't know who he'd saved, and I could make it out of there with no awkward family reunion bullshit.

"Oh fuck…" I suddenly remembered hearing the ceiling creak and a whole support beam landing square on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me and damn near cracking my shell open. "That lab…"

"…Is the third one this month to have blown up. If that doesn't scream sabotage, I don't know what does. Otherwise, the Foot Clan's running some pretty shoddy penthouse meth labs as of late."

"The Foot?"

"You didn't notice these spooky logos on the wall?" he held out a slightly charred silk banner bearing the same ominous three-pronged symbol I'd seen practically a million times. "They and I, we go pretty far back. Haven't heard much from outta recently, but I can't say I'm surprised they're wrapped up in all this."

"What, you think they're blowing up their own labs?"

"Doesn't make sense, but I'm not ruling it out. I don't know just how many enemies they have, but if you ask me, it could be anyone from aliens to the FBI."

"Hmmph." I leaned forward, propping myself up on my elbows and feeling my head reel as an hour's worth of smoke inhalation caught up with me.

"The only real surprising part of last night was finding the Nightwatcher in the rubble. I've always been a huge fan." An annoying, obsessed fan, at that.

"You don't say?"

"Didn't expect to see you around these parts anymore once the news stopped talking about you. Figured you'd skipped town or something. Maybe gotten put out."

"Yeah, well, there's something to be said for staying under the radar. I should've never let the paparazzi get any footage of me in the first place." I swung my legs under me, hearing both my bones and my armor creak as I stood up. "Which is why I'd better get going, before they catch wind that I'm here."

"Got to disappear again, huh? No time for breakfast with your biggest fan? Or a quick autograph?"

"Heh, why not, kid? I guess I owe you one." I chuckled a little inside the helmet; Mike had hardly changed at all. He handed me a marker and opened a notebook. "What do you want me to write?"

"Hmm…make it out to 'my snot-nosed little brother'."

My jaw would have hit the floor if it weren't held in by the helmet. Cautiously, I looked up and was greeted by the same mischievous grin I'd seen when he'd greased Leo's katana grips or put saran wrap over the toilet seat. It made me feel at home for the first time in months.

"Mikey…" He pulled my helmet off and dropped it to the floor, wrapping me in a bear hug before I had time to object. "'M sorry."

"Stupid hot-head. There's only one dude I know who gets himself into such reckless bullshit for fun, and weighs as much as a pickup truck. You know I carried your fat ass down all those stairs to get you out?" I could feel a couple warm drops trickle down my collarbone and into my suit.

"You never saw the helmet in Splinter's room?"

"I never go in there, man. Never looked around, at least. Smells too much like incense and sewer rat."

"Well, you totally got me, bro." I leaned in to hug him back. Nose buried in his shoulder, I realized how much I missed that smell of Irish Spring and tacky body spray. "I thought you didn't know it was me."

"Didn't until last night. Can't believe my shell-for-brains brother was my idol this whole time, and you didn't think to tell me. Where do you get off, Raph?"

"It was a…personal thing. Just a way to blow off some steam. You know me."

"I do." He sniffled a bit, and I pushed a gloved finger up under his chin, my baby brother looking up at me through those watery blue eyes like he hadn't seen me in ages.

Our little scene was broken up by a familiar hunk of metal walking into the room, emotionless golden mask staring in at us.

"Turtle Titan, I've analyzed the data and…" The crystal blue eyes turned away, with some robotic recognition of awkwardness. Mike set me free from the strangle of his too-long hug.

"Nano, you remember my brother Raph? One-time Green Mantle, part-time vigilante…"

"…And full-time hell-raiser." I grinned smugly, extending my arm to the shake our former foe's cold metallic hand.

"More like a full-time tail-raiser." Mikey laughed boorishly at his own joke before wincing, deserving the punch in the arm I gave him.

"Ignore him. You can call me Nightwatcher."

"Well, Nightwatcher, I've just calculated the pattern corresponding to these laboratory explosions. Whoever's behind these is moving southward, or south-east along the city grid, sabotaging one location every eight days."

"Cool. So do we know where they're attacking next?" Mikey asked.

"I'm not certain, but the locations already sabotaged consumed quite a bit of energy compared to their residential surroundings, and there's only two similar power consumption sites south of this last one."

"So what's the plan?" I wondered. "Are you gonna knock on doors around Two Bridges, asking if the Foot Clan needs any help not having their labs blown up?"

"With a bit more discretion than simply knocking, but yes." My sarcasm was lost on the robot. "Though the Foot are certainly not our allies, the potential loss of life from another explosion in such a dense area is reason enough to prevent it. The map with our sites to investigate is up on the large screen in the common room."

"I'll check it out in a sec, Nano. Thanks." Nano whirred down the hall, leaving us alone again.

"Thanks for saving my shell last night, Mike." I smiled warmly at him. "I promise I'll stick to catching muggers and gang bangers, leave the big stuff to the superheroes."

"You don't have to leave, Raph. I want you on this mission with me." He looked down coyly, dragging his toe across the carpet in a circle. "Being on the Force is cool and all, but I'm only one dude. I don't have wings or telekinetic powers, or anything other than a shield and a rope. The other guys are totally radical, but I guess I miss…"

"…Being part of a team." His gaze met mine again. "I get it, bro. Running around the streets solo looking for trouble is getting less fun by the day. I want things to be like the way they were before. That's why I'm gonna do this mission with you. Been too long since I've busted some Foot skulls with my baby bro. But, you sure the rest of the Justice Force is cool with me tagging along?"

"Fuck 'em if they aren't." He crushed me in another hug, and I squeezed him back just as hard. "You really need to shower first, dude. Shouldn't have let you sleep with that suit on. Do you ever even wash the thing?"

"Not gonna dignify that with a response. Where's the showers in this joint?"

* * *

Hope you guys appreciate the frequent updates! No better way to spend a rainy lazy summer day than writing.

Still only one review though! Can't make you like the story more if you don't tell me what you like!

Also, it's time for my first official **MIDPOINT PLOT EXPLANATION UPDATE!** For the literarily obsessed:

-The "right speech" referred to in the 1st chapter is Raph's withholding his outbursts and letting Casey talk

-The "right concentration" in the 2nd chapter is Mikey's ability to tune out his mourning and distractions to do what he needs to do in the burning building

-The "right livelihood" in the 3rd is Don's change of heart about working for Karai and starting to sabotage her work

-The "right intention" in the 4th is Leo's devision to better himself for his brothers and not run away for good

-The "right action" in this chapter is Raph's staying with Mikey instead of sneaking off to do Raph things

And, for those of you schooled in the actual Eightfold Path, that leaves:

-Right Effort (Mikey)

-Right Mindfulness (Don)

-and Right View (Leo)

...though I've been pretty indecisive (because the plot I'd had in mind doesn't 100% match the theme from here on out) so that pattern might change order.

Again, thanks for reading!


	6. Right Effort

Yo readers!

This chapter is **NOT** explicit, if anything it's just deceptively sweet, but definitely toward the more mature end of the T-rating.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

RIGHT EFFORT

"So, you heard from Donnie at all?"

"Nah. Don't really know what happened to the ol' egghead. Could be all alone in the lair for all I know."

"Hmmph. Wouldn't surprise me. Figured you two would have stuck around a lot longer, though. I know you how you get when you're left alone."

"Well, the Force dudes made me an offer, and the Donster didn't really object."

"I hear you. Alright, your back is good. You mind doing me now?"

"Woah, not on the first date, bro!" I laughed at my own joke, even after Raph whipped the soapy washcloth into the back of my head.

"Very funny, genius. Though this is hardly our first date." He mumbled flatly.

It might sound freaky for a teenage dude, but when we've lived together, my brothers and I have showered together for as long as I can remember. Sure, most human kids probably stop doing that around the same time they start preschool, but most humans don't have a huge shell on their back that their arms can't reach. I mean, we don't really wear any clothes, anyways. No matter how pissed off we'd get at each other, nothing brings a family together like scrubbing the sewer stink out of each other's shells.

"So, what about Leo?" he asked.

"Uh…what _about_ Leo?"

"I don't know. You heard from him at all?"

"Nope. Haven't heard a thing since the day after…you know."

"Hmmph."

I started scrubbing at the top of his shoulders, noticing how black and purple his skin was with bruises where his shell didn't cover. However Raph had got pinned under all that rubble, it sure didn't seem like a pleasant experience. I was pretty beat up myself; my knees still killed me where I had fallen through the floor. Nothing a little time and an icepack couldn't fix, though.

"So, what've you been up to since you left?"

"Nightwatcher stuff, mostly. Found a nice place in the sewer underneath Williamsburg. Nothing like this crystal tower you got here, though."

"Yeah, it's a pretty sweet gig. Just the perks of being a superhero, I guess. Still not as cool as riding on a motorcycle and whipping those sweet manriki all around, though."

"Heh, it's been bearable. Not much to do now that Casey don't come around, though. You heard April's pregnant?"

"What? No way! That's awesome!"

"Yeah, for them." He grumbled.

"And kinda gross, too."

"Gross? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno, Raph. Two humans doing it, all that pale flesh…and noises…and juices…"

"Ugh, alright. You made your point." He grimaced. "It's just what humans do, Mike. How else you think they've been around so long?"

"Uh…Guns, I guess? Not really sure. Never really concerned myself with how humans do it. Not like it's gonna happen to us any time soon. Besides, the ol' rat dude taught us everything we need to know about the world, and it's not like that was ever in the lesson plan."

"True. I don't even wanna think about how Splinter would cover all that." I cleared my throat and started my impression of Sensei that I used to use behind his back all the time.

" _My sons, neither time nor space can stop the hungry serpent from entering the lotus garden, and the fruit cannot…_ "

"You're gonna make me nauseous, Mikey. Cut it out." Despite his protests, I could feel Raph chuckling underneath his shell. "Gotta remember not to let you anywhere near my internet history."

"Eww, Raph! What, is it all Animal Planet documentary stuff on turtles screwing?" I started my nature flick narrator voice. " _Here, we have the Eastern Box Turtle, in the full heat of mating season._ "

"Now you're the one who's getting gross, bro. It ain't nothing like that." Classic Raph, never totally answering a question, just saying enough to leave me curious. By now, I was at the bottom of his shell, noticing how his tail flicked in the opposite direction any time the washcloth got close enough to it.

"Then what is it like, huh?"

"Forgot how fucking persistent you can be, Mike." I heard him let out a sigh as I closed my fingers around his tail through the cloth, gently pulling it back toward me. "All kinds of stuff, I guess. Humans, of course, usually a guy and a girl…doing…you know."

"Usually?"

"Uh, sometimes two girls." A blush of red spread across his cheeks, clearly not just from the hot water flowing out of the tap. "Sometimes…two guys."

"Woah, what?" I exclaimed. Raph stepped away from me, turning to face me but eyes locked on the water swirling around the drain.

"Woah, what, yourself! What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? Don't you know not to ask people about what they do in their personal time?" The volume of his voice kept rising, sounding exactly like the lead-up to a fight with Leo. "You judging me or something?"

"No way, bro. Just curious, is all. Plus…I didn't really know two dudes could…you know…do it. Or two girls, for that matter."

"You called me a 'tail-raiser' in front of Nano like ten minutes ago. Don't you even know what that means?" He practically spat at me.

"Oh." My eyes went wide. "Uh…not really, dude. Just kinda heard it on TV one time, and the studio audience all laughed super loud." Despite Raph's awkwardness, he looked up at me with his typical crooked grin.

"It ain't rocket science, bro. Doesn't take a genius to put one and one together."

Something about Raph's last sentence made some gears turn in my head. I hadn't gone over the details of the night Splinter passed away in my mind very recently, but Raph's snide little explanation sparked a memory back to life.

"You just gave me an idea, Raphie. Listen…"

"Mike." He cut me off. "I don't know what you're asking, but if you think…"

"No, no way man, just hear me out. What do you remember about the last night Splinter was still around?"

"Uh…" he quizzically raised a brow at me. "It wasn't anything special. Splinter went to bed after his soaps were done, you and me were playing Call of Duty. Some dickhead kept camping and quick-scoping me, so I quit and went to my room."

"Yeah, you kept getting quick-scoped because the joystick was sticking."

"So? What's your point?"

"After you knocked out, I went to Don's lab to have him fix it. But all the lights were off. What's weird about that?" Raph paused as he processed it.

"It was only ten o'clock. Normally Donnie's up 'til at least two."

"Right. Now listen, I went to find Leo to ask if he could fix it, but he was just going up the stairs after I left the lab."

"Yeah, so? He always goes to bed pretty early. Leaves you and me to just bro out."

"He didn't go into his room, Raph. I saw him walk into Don's room." Raph's eyes practically shot out of his head. "I know, right?"

"Shit, Mikey. Shit." He wrung his head in his hands, exhaling sharply. "Fuck. You really think…?"

"I dunno, man."

"You didn't tell anyone before now?"

"I didn't know what to think they were doing! Dee might as well have been explaining quantum mechanics to Leo."

"I don't believe it…No way, Leo's way too high and mighty to do anything like that."

"I bet he thinks so too. Why do you think he left in such a huff, full drama queen?" From Raphael's blank stare, I could tell the same puzzle pieces were falling together in his head.

"All beat up over doing something 'dishonorable'. That screams Leo."

"That's what I'm saying, bro."

"But Mike…You probably wouldn't know this, but two brothers doing it…that is actually pretty messed up. You never heard of incest?"

"Uh, bro. You're talking to the horror movie marathon master. Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Hills Have Eyes, the Kardashians…but, Leo and Don are two dudes. No chance they'd have a freaky inbreed baby."

"I get that, but it's still pretty taboo."

"As far as I know, there's only four dudes like us on the planet. And the one thing Master Splinter did say whenever the raunchy scenes in the James Bond flicks came on was that…well, only people in love are supposed to 'do it'. And even though we don't always act like it, you know all four of us love each other, so…"

"So what, now you're trying to justify it?"

"Just making sense of it, dude. Like, why Leo and Don would hook up in the first place. I mean, who else are we supposed to do it with? You know any humans into long walks in the sewer and scrubbing the gunk out of your shell?"

"Maybe April at one point, but I guess given the news from Casey…"

"Come on, Raph, you're telling me you've never considered 'getting closer' with one of your bros before?" Making his current blush disappear by comparison, his face turned as red as the bandana hanging on the towel rack next to mine. "I just learned it was possible, like, thirty seconds ago, and…"

"I ain't having this conversation with you anymore. Not right now." He grunted, starting a stomp to the door before I stepped in front to block him.

"Then when?"

* * *

Thanks for reading!

The "right effort" here is how "fucking persistent" Mikey can be, getting Raph to open up and theorizing what he does about Leo and Don.

The last quarter of this chapter is, through Mike, my personal rebuttal to anyone who thinks Tcest is gross. Though by now, they've probably stopped reading lol.

Tell your friends! And keep those reviews coming!


	7. Right Mindfulness

RIGHT MINDFULNESS

Eight days I'd spent back in the lair, and for five of them I'd turned my phone off completely. Who knows whether Karai actually believed I couldn't get reception in the sewers or not. Truthfully, spending that much time alone was a bit of a trip, but I can't say I didn't enjoy it. When I worked with her, she ordered all the equipment and bought all the software she'd decided I'd use in our work. Back home, I was welding my experimentation chambers out of oil drums, and writing my programs from scratch, back on my own Linux. I know my brothers always thought my interests confined me in my lab for hours every day, but over those eight days, I realized nothing had felt more liberating.

That eighth day, Karai's team was supposed to return from harvesting the "immortal stone" sample from Labrador. All my work I'd planned to devote myself to after I defected from her experiment would be for nothing unless I happened to catch a ride to the Arctic in the near future. That meant, as much as I dreaded turning my phone back on, I had to put up with the Foot for at least a little while longer if I wanted to obtain those bacteria.

By this point, I had even considered ways to mass-produce the bacterial microcosms, but never put thought into how I'd get the rest of the planet aware of such a device. It's not like the sewer is a prime place for advertising. I supposed I could get April to market the invention aboveground, but I hadn't spoken with her since God knows when. Definitely not since before I moved out, and I hadn't really spent time with her since she started getting really involved with Casey. She's always been a great colleague, but science and jealousy mix like oil and water. I'd given up any kind of romantic feelings for her years before, but old scars still hurt sometimes.

After a few hours, the dreaded call from Karai finally came.

" _Buonasera, you have reached the office of Doctor Donato di Betto Bardi._ " I milked the cheesy accent for all it was worth.

"Donatello." Her bark cut through my attempt at humor. "The team has just arrived."

"You have the samples?"

"Yes. And I must say, I am unsure about how reliable your search for what qualifies as a sample is. They have brought me twenty gallons of pond scum. Do you know how much this whole project has cost me?"

"That's exactly what I told the technicians to bring back, Karai." I paused to remember the explanation I'd given her before. "The original sample is a perfect match with a certain ancient layer of rock in old geologic shields around the world. Rather than ask you to pay millions to drill deep through the surface, I figured we'd take the cost-effective route. The reservoir in Labrador eroded all the way through the crust to that layer, and the dissolved rock is actively absorbed by cold-favoring bacteria that thrive in marshy environments."

"I see." She bought it. "Well, knowing you aren't opposed to late shifts, and seeing as you've been out of my lab for more than a week, I'm asking you to come in tonight at nine."

"No assistants or anything?"

"Unfortunately, our underlings work more regular hours than you do. In light of what happened to our three other labs, I'm asking you specifically because I need someone who can both make progress on our research and keep the lab secure."

"I didn't recall working as a security guard being on my contract."

"I'd hoped you'd understand, Donatello. This is our last active laboratory in Manhattan. Should anything happen tonight, I'd have to relocate you and everyone else on the staff to Japan until we can renovate another property."

"That doesn't really do anything to persuade me, you know." I chuckled.

"All I'm asking you to do is catch up on your work and keep an eye on the security cameras. Should anyone appear, neutralizing them is as simple as touching a button on the control panel. And you'll get paid overtime."

"Alright, I'll be there at nine." I clicked the phone shut and groaned, reading 8:07 on my computer screen. It looked like my much-needed working vacation was over.

After a grueling nighttime commute on the subway, a lengthy elevator ride up the Market Street high-rise, and a theatrical " _Doctor Donato di Betto Bardi"_ into the voice-recognizing door, I made it to the lab by 9:10. If her labs kept getting blown up, why'd Karai keep putting them in the top floors of apartment buildings? I know she just inherited all the property from her father, but you'd think a warehouse or somewhere less populated would be a smarter location for something so volatile.

True to her word, the whole laboratory was empty but for myself. I hadn't even set foot in the new location yet, but seeing as they'd all been laid out the same, I set down the hallway to the largest room at the end, where three massive vats were full of blue-green lake muck. I'd been dreaming about this all week. I could tell the vats were teeming with life, all thick with slime and even home to a couple worms or tadpoles flagellating around inside. To most, it'd look pretty grotesque, but I suppose being a turtle makes my tastes a little unique.

Carefully lowering a burette underneath the tank and turning the spigot, I carried the muck over to the microscopes on the lab bench and dripped drops onto a few slides. On the first, I added another drop of Gram stain, and peered into the microscope's lens as I finely adjusted the knobs. Slowly but surely, whole colonies of dark purple spots and dashes appeared, as did a backdrop of the pink streaks I was looking for. The species I was after was a cyanobacteria, making it Gram-negative, and the dominant layer of pink on the slide all but confirmed I had struck gold.

Through my eye not pressed to the lens, a faint change in the room's light caught my eye. My neck snapped up to look at the security screen, where one of the six cameras appeared to be transmitting static. It definitely wasn't doing that when I'd walked in. Leaving the lab bench, I paced over to the window and peered out. All I could see from up there was the water and the Manhattan Bridge crossing it; anything down on the dark street was too distant to see. My eyes shot over to the screens again, picking up no action anywhere else the cameras could see. Either there had been a technical fluke, or someone pretty skilled in stealth was making their way in. I couldn't take any chances either way.

Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard a faint clunk from the floor below me. These labs were usually two or three stories tall, so I didn't know if it was someone in their apartment, or an air conditioner turning on, or something else. I know for a fact the door locked automatically behind me when I walked in, but I was still a little on edge. Going back to the lab bench, the same sound seemed to come from closer this time. Then, a few seconds later, it came again. Nothing was showing up on the cameras, but there was definitely something in the lab, and it was only getting closer to me. At the security panel, my eyes scanned every button for something that seemed like an appropriate response. But how does one respond to nothing?

Finally, the same sound seemed to have appeared on my level of the building. It originated from where the hallway met the open room I was standing in. Thinking fast, I grabbed the longest glass pipe from the rack nearest to me and shattered the tip on the table, leaving me with a three-foot jagged spear. I scanned the whole room for any signs of motion, and seeing nothing, moved delicately forward to what I thought was the source of the sound. I assumed the 'horse stance' I hadn't been in since the last time I held my bo staff, eyes glued on the end of the room.

A subtle click shook me from my glare. I looked up to see a small orb falling through the air vent right over my head. I batted the thing away, and it hit the floor beside me with an eruption of smoke. Something about the smoke grenade seemed oddly familiar, but I had no time to consider it as I tucked in and rolled back to safety, watching two shadowy figures open the vent and drop into the room just before my view was obscured in a haze. Through the boundless gray, I could make out a hulking silhouette running at me, and I regained my footing just in time to see a small projectile lobbed my way. I pushed it aside with the pipe in my hand, hearing the glass chip as I strafed aside. It didn't leave me with time to notice the second projectile coming right at my wrist, wrapping a chain tightly around and stopping my moving the pipe.

I yanked the chain forward, throwing its user off his feet and toward my makeshift spear. A rain of glass spilled off the metal of his armor and tinkled across the linoleum floor. Only half the pipe remaining in my hand, I slid my wrist out of its chain bond and kicked the assailant back into the heart of the smoke cloud. It displaced the air in the room and whipped the smoke in a circle around me, as a second shadow seemed to leap over the first and straight at me. I ducked down nimbly, letting him land behind me. Recovering his footing gave me enough time to sweep my leg around and knock him backward, but as I stood up, he shot a leg at my midsection quickly. I twisted to avoid it, but the kick landed right on the hologram projector clipped to my hip.

Clutching my side as I stepped back, I could see the "shell" of my disguise start to break up in jagged lines, then finally disappear. This little light show distracted my attackers enough to let me bust what remained of the pipe over my knee, and I lunged out both arms to hold the sharp glass to the necks of both shadows charging at me. They froze in their steps, and I watched the smoke gradually spiral toward the floor as I stood locked in a standoff. After a few tense moments, one of the assailants finally broke the silence.

"Don?" A metallic orange "T" embossed on black spandex was revealed to me as the smoke wound down.

"No fucking way…" The steel-armored figure opposite his partner raised a glove to his helmet and slid it off, revealing…  
"Raph? Mikey?" I dropped the glass shanks in my hand, letting them shatter on the ground. "What on earth is going on?" Both of them closed in on me, practically mummifying me in a suffocating embrace. "Why are you here?"

"Uh, D, this is a Foot lab." Mike pointed a thumb back to the silk banner on the wall, bearing the company logo. "We should ask you the same thing."

"Needed something to occupy my time, I guess." I offered. Raph ground a gloved knuckle into the top of my skull, making me both wince and grin at the first of his noogies in what seemed an eternity.

"We all get into some weird shit when we got too much time on our hands, huh?" This was one of the first times in recent memory I'd classify Raphael as 'understanding'. "And for your information, Donnie, the Nightwatcher and the Turtle Titan came to get whoever was up here, out of here, 'cause there's a bomb in the air ducts one floor down that had twenty minutes left on the clock about four minutes ago."

"Dammit." I sighed. Sliding myself out of their death grips, I found the red plastic handle on the wall and pulled it down, sending the fire alarm off all across the building. Over the roar of the siren, I shouted, "We need to get as much of this water as we can out of here!"

"I don't think that's enough water to take out a bomb, Don!" Mikey yelled back.

"I'll explain when we get back to the lair!"

"Hauling Don's junk back to the lair for some hair-brained science experiment? Ain't this a trip down memory lane!" Raph shouted back, nudging Mike playfully in the chest. He squatted down in front of the tank with his arms underneath, and with a great heave, broke the whole thing off its frame. Mikey ran straight into the window, shield-first, sending a hailstorm of shards down to the street. Thinking quickly, he hurled his grappling hook out the window, snagging it on a chimney across the street and handing me the loose end as he hooked his shield across it and slid away. I fed the rope through an empty socket on the water tank's former support, and watched with baited breath as the glass vat dangled precariously across the line before thudding into Mike's waiting arms. Raph was the next to slide across, using his manriki as a hook.

Hurriedly dashing across to grab the sturdy metal microscope on the lab bench and leave my cellphone and hologram unit in its place, I snagged its frame on the rope, and tied the loose end around a heating pipe underneath the window frame. Trying not to look down at the accumulating crowd of building residents standing in the street far below, I skidded to a halt just as my feet could touch the roof on the other end. Raphael tossed a shuriken just feet above my head, slicing the rope close to the far end and leaving only a few inches hanging out the window. After the ordeal of getting the tank down the fire escape on the other side of the roof, we opened the manhole cover in the alley underneath, and slid it shut just in time to hear a muffled boom from above. By the time we made it down the ladder and into the tunnel, we could hear a thunderous rain of rubble hitting the streets overhead.

All short of breath as we sprinted away, none of us really exchanged words until we were back in the safety of the lair. Even then, Mike and Raph had the same routine of silently taking in the lair's aura for the first few minutes while I emptied the contents of the tank into my own container, sealing it shut to save for tomorrow's experimentation. My two brothers were plastered on the couches when I shut the lab's lights off, still catching their breath. I gave them the general rundown on just what I had been doing and what my plans were for the loot they helped me haul while they panted and got out of their costumes.

"So, you had Karai send dudes thousands of miles away to collect some pond slime, just for fuck's sake?" Raph asked.

"Partially, yes. But like I said, what I'm using it for in my research could change the whole world. At the very least, it'll mean free gas for the Battle Shell and your bike."

"That's rad, Donster." Mikey nodded in approval. "Mega rad."

"I think so, too." I smiled back.

For the first time in months, I shot the breeze with my brothers, hearing where they'd been and how they'd found each other again. I learned about Casey and April having a baby on the way, and after a good hour of long-forsaken banter, Mikey came forward with his theory on why Leo had left. Never the one to phrase something delicately, his accusation really rubbed me the wrong way.

"You're saying Leo and I had sex, and he freaked out about it and left?"

"Didn't mean to come across as rude or anything, D. But I saw what I saw that night, and it just made sense to me."

"Well…I don't really appreciate you two making such dubious theories about my personal business." Raph waved away my tense remark nonchalantly.

"You don't got to be so awkward about it, Don. This bozo and I aren't in any position to judge what makes you tick."

"All we wanna know is what happened, dude."

"Fine." I huffed a bit, pausing to recall the whole night's events. "One of mine and Leo's mutual interests happens to be classical Japanese poetry. Some of it tends to be pretty romantic, and we were in the lab, discussing one medieval-era piece about a kiss. We got around to talking about kissing in general, and how we'd never had our first kiss, and…for your information, that's all we were doing in my room. Nothing more."

The two of them turned silently to meet each other with a knowing look, and broke out in raucous laughter, Raph folding practically in half and Mikey slapping his knee.

"Donnie, you prude!" Raph wiped a tear from his eye.

"Dude, Leo standing outside Don's room, reciting some Shakespeare and telling him to cast down his long, flowing locks!" Mike's ridiculous analogy only reignited their laughter twice as loudly. I just sat there, smothered in half embarrassment, half relief from their apparent understanding.

"Well, I guess it wasn't _just_ a kiss, but…"

"Man, we didn't mean to laugh at you. Our bad, bro." Mikey leveled when their laughter finally died down. "It's just…"

"What this clown's trying to say is, we're happy for you, Don." Raph smiled. "It's, uh, something I didn't really understand at first, but I guess Mikey helped open my eyes, and…"

"The only difference is, after I gave my big bro his first kiss, he didn't disappear off into the night like a big baby." Mikey interrupted.

"I think you're right about that." I offered. "It was one of the first times I'd seen Leo not so stressed out and tense, but when he went back to his room afterward, he was still acting like he'd…I don't know, done something against the rules. It was the same look you had in your eyes after breaking the paper door to Splinter's room with your basketball when we were kids, Mike."

"But he didn't say anything to you before he left either?" Raph asked.

"Nope. Sounds like we have his motive, but still no idea about his location."

"Stuck right where we were before." Mike groaned.

After a well-deserved night of sleep, the silence of the lair in the morning was broken by Raph leaving Mike's room, trudging to the kitchen in a tired haze and pouring himself a cup of the coffee I'd left in the pot. He firmly placed a palm on my shoulder as I looked at the results of some preliminary experimentation with the sample bacteria.

"Don, this is gonna sound like some shit out the Twilight Zone, but last night, Mikey had a good idea about your work."

"Michelangelo's interested in my biofuel research?" My eyes lit up.

"Uh, not really. But you told us last night that you found the right kind of lake muck using some kind of satellite, right? Could find its DNA from space?"

"Really, any molecular sequence, limited of course by the satellite's capacity to detect minute differences in the spectral emissions of larger molecules. The bacteria had small enough plasmids that I could find a near-exact match."

"Right…" The details were clearly lost on Raph. "Well, Mikey said it made you sound like Professor Xavier outta the X-Men. You know, with Cerebro, that big computer that detects all the mutants?"

"Not too far off of a comparison."

"So…couldn't you use your computer to do the same thing? Like, 'find all the mutants'? Well, not all of 'em necessarily, but just…"

"…Leo."

"I was gonna say, didn't you already read our DNA for some research on the mutagen a while ago? Or did you just have Leo spit in a cup for…personal reasons?" he chuckled.

"I still have the sequences saved." I opened a folder buried deep in the corner of my desktop's clutter, dragged the file marked "Leonardo" into the program I'd written earlier for work, and watched as the satellite map wiped its previous markings clean while the new ones loaded up. "Because our DNA is much more complex than a bacteria's, it won't show solely perfect matches, but…" Sure enough, the earth looked nearly the same, save for the three red blips clustered around Midtown Manhattan. I zoomed out further, looking for the same red hue. Some red rocks in the Mojave deceived my eye, as did a red algal bloom in the Caspian Sea, but these didn't help me. Panning the map all around, my mind reeled as I tried to fathom where he could be.

"If there's only three red spots, does that mean he's..." Raph cleared his throat. "You know, dead?"

"No, some DNA would still remain in its whole form for months, maybe even years before fully decomposing." Finally, a glint of red caught my eye, just off the southern tip of Kamchatka. "Assuming he didn't fall into a volcano or anything."

* * *

This chapter is a friggin' horse! 3,590 words, that's the third largest chapter I've ever wrote out of fifty-four!

For the curious, the 'finale' (the Leo-centric _Right View)_ will probably be even longer. Prepare your eyes before staring ravenously at the screen for longer than an hour lmaooo

The reason 'finale' is in quotes is because, after the finale and two epilogues, there's still a lot of time on my hands, and I still have a lot of plots drafted for the Turtles that don't really relate to the whole 'theme' of the Eightfold Path. If more people keep on reading, I'll know I should let the story roll on and see where we can go with it.

The 'right mindfulness' in this chapter is Don's ability to hold his own in the lab after not practicing ninjitsu in months, and taking into account how he's usually the least skilled in combat out of all four.

Thanks for the reads, dawg!


	8. Right View

RIGHT VIEW

The sharp, rocky volcano face where the Oyakoba temple was cast into the stone seemed so quiet as to feel like another planet, yet was always roaring with the bitter eastern wind and the cymbals of water crashing upon the shore. Above the jade ring of grassland that circled the mountain, one could only see frigid gray rock, capped toward the summit with an ashy snow. The monks, both humans and mutants of various size and color, were united by their shaved heads, deerskin robes, black veils wrapped around their mouths, and scarcity of speech. On the day of my landing, the _jujishuko_ couldn't have uttered more than fifty words to me; the ancient-looking man didn't ask my name, where I came from, what kind of creature I was, or practically anything other than if I knew where I had landed before handing me the proper attire and showing me to a free bed.

Everything about the place seemed barren. No inch of the temple itself was decorated or even painted, and the only ornament was the monolith of a minimalist Buddharupa in the middle courtyard. The whole complex formed a perfect wood-roofed square around that statue, just as everyone on the island's lives revolved around the building in perfect routine. At sunrise, we descended from the temple to the icy waters of the shore, meditating between the rocks as the waves barraged our backs. After three hours, we trekked to the hot springs to practice their dramatic style of internal martial art in unison around the steaming water. The technique was unlike anything I'd ever seen; bold circle-based ornaments and furies of straight-line footwork punctuated with the slow, balancing movement of tai chi or yoga. It was intentionally designed with no offensive purpose, maybe based on manipulating the flow of inner chi or moving parallel to the planet's natural energy. The veterans of the island moved with uncanny swiftness, looking more than physical as they danced through the motions with fierce stance. Following five hours of that, we collected water from the stream at the base of the mountain and ascended back to the temple for the day's one meal and studying scripture until sunset.

It was a lifestyle unlike anything I'd imagined to still exist in the world. Whole days would go by without exchanging any words beyond a "thank you" for the morning tea and daily rice and vegetables. Some monks said even less. Every sunset coincided with physical exhaustion, and every sunrise with a sober understanding of what would happen between then and the next. Unsure of my movements at first, the teachers didn't chide when I studied their actions before attempting something so new. For being the place I'd come to learn some more discipline, there wasn't any real punishment, or any communication at all for that matter. Every action seemed to flow neutrally, with no negativity and only an internal devotion to a positive cause. No one knew each other's name, nor their past, only that they all shared the same life and walked the same path. Steeping in this blur of unity and isolation left me feeling practically nothing at all.

One would think a life like that would work to distract me from what sent me there, but such starving of the senses only left me thinking about home more than I already had been. There I was, halfway around the earth from them, where the distance and my commitment to the lifestyle stopped me from acting on the thoughts that continued to muddle my brain. That was supposed to make the thoughts go away, wasn't it? They say you'll always want most what you can't have, but couldn't the mind accept that its wants were futile? How long would it take? Two weeks hadn't set me to wake with the four AM sunrise, it hadn't made my growling stomach accommodate the meager rations, and hadn't made me half as skilled as any of the others in their strange dance-sparring. All I'd accomplished in that time was feeling permanently tired and bland, like my color was washing out into the freezing ocean below.

Those two weeks came and went within the same monotonous cycle, until one day, our ascent from the springs led us past the temple and wrapping around the snowcapped mountainside toward the peak. That day was the summer solstice, and we rounded the final twist in the frosted path to enter the volcano's caldera just as high noon struck. Before then, all I had seen from the jagged crown of the mountain was the occasional column of smoke drifting lazily into the clouds. Now, I took in its source: a swirling lake of liquid pewter, split with crackles of glowing scarlet and orange. Within the crater, the air was alive with steam and the hiss of its escape. The lava pool stretched three hundred feet across, and a few yards overhead, a lone coarse rope was tied tautly to large crags in the rocks on each end.

We assumed our sitting lotus position along the shore, my nose unconsciously wrinkling from the smell of sulfur. With no explanation, one of the monks grappled up the boulder on one end of the lake and, with seemingly no preparation, began a kata leading his feet over one another like a snake travelling in a straight line. His arms scooped and hooked like a stormy coastline, somehow keeping him in balance as he scurried across to safety on the other side. He joined us in the lotus position, and the next in line made his way up the rock.

I already knew they expected me to be tuning out my fear, sitting there in the line, but the suspense only made me worry more. Not one monk showed any imperfection or trip as they crossed the line, showing levels of concentration even beyond the masters I'd already met. Even across a lake of fire, they moved with the same impossible speed and grace. How long had the others been here for, training like this? Without knowing, I wasn't sure whether to be amazed at their pace of learning or disappointed at my own. Was two weeks' time really enough training for this stunt? Would they tell me if they didn't expect me to be ready? Were there any secret tips to not falling I hadn't learned yet? How am I supposed to know what it is that I don't know?

These thoughts ricocheted inside my skull as half the order took their turns on the rope before me. Finally, by the time I was the first in line, my palms were dripping sweat and I couldn't quell the tremor of my nervousness. When the rope was cleared, I gripped the bottom of the boulder and tried to gulp the knot forming in my throat, to no avail. At the top, I closed my eyes and did what I could to make my mind as silent as the monks' below, their stares all directed at me. Barely breathing, I gingerly slid my first foot onto the rope, closing my eyes and trying my damnedest not to look down. I could feel its worn fibers groan as it stretched to accommodate my weight, and slid my second foot on. I tried to remember the exercises we did in the hot springs, but every time I lifted my foot to cross it over, I could feel myself tipping into the lava below. Each time it happened, I seemed to jostle even harder. The beating of my heart drummed on the roof of my mouth, really the only thing I could hear.

As the rope started to dance underneath my feet, I yelped and shot my arms out straight to my side, trying to regain some type of balance. The rush of blood seemed to roar through my ears, and the whole world seemed to shudder in tune with my own vibration. The line under me became meaningless, insensible, and the heat of the air around me felt as caustic as lava. My eyes shot open. Overhead, a golden sphere engraved with 'JF' seemed to be descending fast right on top of me. Hardly able to react, I felt myself preparing for the fall, then realized the logo was painted on the bottom of a helicopter, white metal and purring blades slowing to hover just over me. Seeing nowhere else to go as the copter whipped air around to gyrate the line between my toes, I grabbed onto the landing skid and felt the earth turn below me. Now safely above solid land, my grip loosened and I dropped like a ragdoll to the ground, finding my feet in time to land with some feeble attempt at grace. Across the lava, the monks stayed rigid in their seats, some still locking their unwavering glares on me, and others craning their necks up to the helicopter. It dawned on me how ragged my breathing was, and I fell to my knees as the hyperventilating started to cast dark tunnel edges around my sight.

I could taste the ashy cloud on my tongue as the copter whipped a smoke screen around it, dropping its skids to the earth behind me with a thud. Barely able to stay in my own skin, I was too focused on regaining control of my breath to look back at my unexpected saviors as they exited their craft.

"This is some Bond villain shit right here, bro." One gruff voice scoffed in a Brooklyn drawl. "Secret island lair with a fucking volcano and everything. What is this, some kind of cult?" I winced inside, imagining the other monks' hearing Raph's grating mouth.

"Looks more like a super-villain's sinister army, if you ask me, dude." The younger voice came scampering up behind me, and I visibly flinched as I expected a rambunctious pounce so typical from Michelangelo. Instead, when I opened my eyes warily, those cool blue irises were boring concernedly into mine. "What did they do to you, Leo?" He murmured, his breath registering on my face from only inches away.

"Give him some space, Mike." Don directed, and again I stared down at the dusty gray earth. I felt fingers brush the edge of my cheek, the first physical touch I'd felt in longer than weeks, and reflexively I slapped it aside. The purple-banded gaze lowered to meet mine as he hunched down. "Leo…it's us."

"Yeah." I panted. Don's brow knotted.

"Do you…wanna come with us?"

"No." I gulped, looking back down to the ground. "Yes…Not now."

"Or, answer D: all of the above." He chuckled, trying futilely to lighten the mood. "You really want to do this?"

"No. But I have to."

"Bro, you don't _have to_ do anything." Raph interrupted.

"He's right, Leo. You don't." Don continued. "You don't even have to come with us. You and I don't have to be anything more than brothers if you do. I know you have a lot of responsibility and honor that your head says you have to listen to. You and I, we get each other, you know? You've told me what it's like to live in your shell, and I know that our ideas can make us do things our hearts and our guts tell us not to, and vice versa. But when all three are telling you something's wrong, or something's right, well, that's when you know what to do. That's what made me come all this way. And right now, it doesn't look like any part of you is supposed to be here."

"Need to suffer to get stronger, right?" I huffed.

"Stronger? Do they even feed you, bro?" Mikey cut in. "I can practically see your ribs through your shell. Kinda thought wherever you ran away to would be more like a summer camp than a labor camp. Besides, my big bro's the strongest dude in the world, even when Raph begs to differ."

"I'm not good enough for you." I choked. "Any of you. Not yet."

"A lot of good you'll be doing us, turning into turtle soup up here just to prove a point." Raph spat, glaring across the sizzling pit. "There's nothing you gotta prove to these weirdoes. Or to us. And if you ask me, Splinter wouldn't have let the universe take him unless there was nothing left for us to prove to him, either."

"He's right, Leo." Don finally stood up. "There's nothing you should be running from. I know you aren't perfect, and I love you even more for it. All the good things in the universe come from its imperfections. How else would you explain a mutant ninja turtle?"

"Maybe you're not used to taking orders from the rest of us, but dude, you're the only big brother we've all got." Mikey sniffed, maybe from the noxious air. "So I'm ordering you to quit playing Criss Angel and come home."

Releasing my head from its bow, I peered up to see Donatello offering me his hand. His lifeline. I don't remember letting go, even looking back out the helicopter window as Oyakoba's glistening peak seemed to be consumed by the sea.

* * *

*cue dramatic credits music*

Hope you liked it! Don't cry too much; this story arc may be done (minus epilogues) but the tale's far from over!


	9. Right Knowledge

RIGHT KNOWLEDGE

For all our glitz and glamor in the city, the Justice Force's jurisdiction only stretched as far as the US border. Our little "unscheduled flight" out of Russian waters passed by pretty silently, half because we could barely speak over the engine's roar, and half because Leo found some way to sleep through the racket until we touched down on the Force yacht in the Aleutians. I waved to Tsunami and Chrysalis in the boat's tower as I powered the copter's engine down. Raph and I hopped out the pilot door, watching as Don steadily led Leo down the rudder steps onto the deck. That careful look in Don's eyes, I'd seen it in Leo's whenever one of us was hurt or got sick, but it was cool to see the tables turned as the 'fearless leader' started to come back to the real world.

Under the deck, we twisted and turned through the hall until I found the same quarters we'd stayed in on the voyage there.

"Radical! They switched the beds out!" I noticed the two sets of bunk beds were replaced by two king sizes. I'd known they kept at least one for Raptarr (the dude's wings are pretty beastly) but maybe Ananda kept another on board for her Domebot. She did get weirdly attached to that hunk of metal.

"Lil perv." Raph chuckled, punching me lightly in the shoulder before flopping down onto the mattress. "You think Don and Leo aren't gonna mind?"

"Aren't gonna mind what?" The brainiac rounded the corner with Leo in tow, slapping a palm to his face when he saw the room's arrangement. "Ugh, real subtle, Michelangelo."

"Chill, Donster." I looked back at Leo, his eyes still moderately bugged out. "You two puritans can build a 'no dishonor' barrier out of the comforter, or whatever. Personally, I'm gonna use my kickass bed to its full extent." I cannonballed onto Raph with a 'cowabunga', grappling with him and getting flipped over onto my shell.

"Uh, guys, don't you think we should explain some stuff to Leo?" Don interrupted, awkwardly looking away from us and scratching behind his head. Leo's alien gaze was locked right on Raph and me, mouth slightly agape.

"What's there to explain?" I raised an eyebrow. "Raph and I kinda figured out what 'big secret' you two were trying to keep, and were like, 'why not?'"

"That ain't exactly how it happened." He released me from my pin, lying down on the bed next to me.

"You're right, it really was me who did all the figuring." I threw on a British accent. " _Michelange-Lock Holmes, at your service._ "

"You told them?" Leo murmured to Don, the first words I'd heard out of him since the island.

"Nah, we solved that riddle before we even found Donnie." Raph answered. "Plus, our ideas were a little off from what actually went down."

"Prudes!" I hollered out. "Can't believe you made us chase you all the way here over one stupid kiss, Leo. Next time you want me to dodge the Russian Air Force for you, it better be over a blowjob or better!"

"Michelangelo!" Don chided. "Could you possibly cool your jets? Like I said, Leo…We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with."

"Aww, Donatello, you romantic!" Raph laughed.

"But, as you can see, these two clowns aren't going to judge us if we do decide to…" Don continued. "…Do anything at all."

"Meh, I'll probably still judge a little bit." Raph smirked.

"I won't judge, guys…" I grinned at them both. "…If you let me watch."

"Ew." Donnie grimaced. "On that note, why don't you two go ask Tsunami how long it'll take to get back to New York? Or go make some dinner."

"Alright, we get it." Raph scooped me up in his tree-trunk arms, throwing me over his shoulder like a captive princess as he carried me out the door. "We'll leave you two lovebirds to yourselves."

* * *

"Sorry about all that." I sat down on the bed, and Leo hesitantly did the same. "You can't imagine what it was like sharing a room with those two all the way here."

"I have an idea." He smiled meekly back at me, showing some happiness for the first time since we found him. It faded just as quickly. "I'm a little jealous, to be honest. Everything seems to come so naturally for those two."

"I know what you mean. It's gotta be nice to not overthink everything all the time."

"I guess I forgot how well you understand me, Donnie. I always feel like there's so much I have to go through alone, but…"

"You don't have to do anything alone." I placed my palm on his. "I'll go wherever you tell me."

"You mean it?"

"Only if you promise you won't run halfway across the planet again." I nudged him delicately in the side. "The first two times were hard enough for us."

"They were hard for me, too. I thought about you every day."

"So did I." The room seemed to be quickly getting smaller, or else something brought Leo's lips closer and closer to mine.

* * *

"Mmm, you smell that, Raphie? Good thing the Justice Force's only five star open flame chef is on board!"

"All you did was take the pizza outta the freezer and put it in the oven, you numbskull." I grunted.

"Maybe so, but it's an eye the little details that make a true gourmet." We rounded the corner to the hall where our room was.

"The only details you had your eye on were the kitchen ceiling while I had you on that table…"

"Which was totally unhygienic, now that I think about it. Gotta remember to have Tsunami wipe the counters down before sushi night."

"You're the worst kind of housemate, Mike. These guys have got to be glad you're moving out." He looked back at me with a finger over his lips, and silently I peered over his shoulder as he inched the door open. Leo's ugly beige robe was in a pile on the floor, and up on the bed, I could see Donnie spread-eagled across the mattress as Leo kneeled between his legs and left a trail of kisses up his chest toward his neck. Turning back to me with a devious grin, Mikey shut the door gingerly and we kept walking down the hall.

* * *

"Can I ask you something, Don?" I murmured into his ear.

"Yeah." He shuddered.

"Is it weird that I can't remember half the names of the cities I traveled through, or just how many monks were on that island…" I let my fingers trace up from the small of his back, stopping right at the angle where his collarbone met his neck. "…But I remember, from that one night, how this spot drives you crazy?"

"The mind's a funny thing, Leo." His voice wavered, and a sharp gasp of breath jumped from his mouth as I pinched the spot in my teeth and pulled back lightly.


	10. Right Liberation

RIGHT LIBERATION

For a moment, I thanked the universe that turtles had no eyelashes. The handle of Raphael's sai was only a hair's width away from nudging my eye, before I ducked my head around and grabbed his thrusting wrist with my free hand to twist away.

"Told you I wouldn't take it easy on you." He grunted, jerking his heels to a stop. Flipping his lone sai to grasp it by the handle, he used the fist to block away the lunge of my katana as he fired a punch with the other. His knuckles landed in my palm with a clap, and our eyes locked as each arm struggled for control over the other's. Pushing like an unstoppable force against an immovable object, I was able to twist my sword free from the pincers of his sai to push his arm aside, but his free fist torqued my wrist inward and made me drop to my knees as he caught me in a hold. My face was trapped in the corner of my elbow as Raph danced around to wrap my forearm behind my head. I was completely immobilized, the room feeling a whole lot smaller as he practically pushed me through the concrete with his weight.

"Say it." He commanded. I mumbled into my own arm, and he slid his hold down so I was practically choking me with it. "Say it."

"You win." I croaked, unfurling from my bind and rocking back on my shell. Raph strutted away to hang his weapon up next to its twin and left the room, as Mike and Don rushed from the sides. I lied there on my back for a good few seconds, unaware of where I was, wheezing to catch my stolen breath and clutching my sides.

"You okay, L-Dawg?" Mike inquired, extending his hand down to mine and pulling me upright.

"Fine." I panted, folding at the waist and planting my palms on my knees. "Training's over."

"Raph, you can't just choke Leo out like that!" Donnie shouted out of the room.

"Sure I can." He hollered back, walking in with a blue and gold pack in one hand and a lighter in the other. "I had a lot riding on this bet. We agreed on the rules and shook on it, didn't we?" Pulling a cigarette out of the pack, he pressed it to his lips and set it ablaze. "And when ol' Fearless wants me to stop smoking in the lair, we can rematch and he can choke me out all he wants." Raph grinned victoriously and puffed the smoke out of his nostrils like a bull. "That is, if he's up to the challenge."

"That's no excuse to behave like a savage, Raphael. You could have snapped his neck!" Don nagged.

"Raph won fair and square." I straightened up and stretched my arms back over my head, struggling to think of what to say. "Just proves that we all could use some more left-handed practice. And that I'm still pretty out of shape. Got to cover all the weak points in our technique to get back up to speed."

"Don't blame yourself like that, Leo." Raphael's hand grasped my shoulder firmly. "I've been getting stronger when you were gone." Curling his arm to flex his bicep, his veins and tendons bulging through the skin. "Not much else to do all alone in the sewer."

"Yeah, we can tell, dude." Mikey playfully grasped the flexing forearm, eyeing it like a hungry wolf. "The whole vascular look is a telltale sign of someone who jerked it twelve times a day for a few months." Don and Mike couldn't contain their laughter, as Raph exhaled a thick cloud around Mike's head that turned his chuckling into green-faced coughing.

"Gonna be difficult to keep this look now that I've got you to take care of that for me." He grinned.

As Raph and Mike retired to the couch to play their video games, I trailed Don on the way to his lab. I sat down and crumpled slightly on his lab bench, as he spun his computer chair around to face me.

"You sure you're okay, Leo?" His worried gaze met mine.

"I'm fine. Just a still at little…out of it, I guess."

"That's what I'm referring to. This is the thirteenth time I've seen you like this in the two weeks you've been back."

"Like what?"

"Eyes all wide, short of breath, not speaking much, heart palpitations, zoning out…You haven't noticed?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not a new thing. Even as a kid, I feel like this happened when I was scared or stressed out.

"But it must have gotten worse recently. Come on, Leo, we've lived together for twenty years, and the first time I can remember seeing that face was right when you left after Splinter passed. Since you've been back, it's mostly happened during training, meditation, and when you and I…spend personal time."

"You're right." I sighed, looking down and ruminating. "Sometimes, it feels like the world's just falling away, and my mind's the only thing I can sense. I just get consumed."

"Interesting. I've been looking into it quite a bit, and those symptoms practically confirm what I've been thinking."

"Confirm what?"

"It's a dissociative panic disorder. Your brain has a tendency to overload itself with information, which prevents it from processing what's going on around you."

"Sounds spot on." I noted.

"Well, that means I didn't waste money on these." He produced a small amber bottle, and the pills rattled inside as he lobbed it across the table to me. Rolling it between my fingers, I examined the label.

"These look strong, Don. I don't know about this…"

"I know how you feel about medicine, Leo, but herbal teas and meditation can only go so far. The amount of stress this condition puts on your body isn't good for you. Just look at how much sleep you've been losing. If putting one of these under your tongue when an episode starts is the best way I can stop you from having a stroke, or a heart attack, then will you at least consider it?" I mulled over his heavy words.

"What are they, exactly?"

"Sedatives, or anxiolytics to be more precise. It inhibits your neurons and helps your brain quiet down. Keeps you grounded in reality."

"Are they addictive?" I asked, and Don nervously scratched the back of his head.

"They can be…but mostly when used improperly. It wouldn't be responsible of me to medicate you without giving you therapy, too, and with those two combined I think we can work through whatever's giving you trouble. As soon as you're back in full gear, we can flush the rest away and never think about them again." I still had my misgivings, but there's no one in the world I trust more to do his research or care about me than Donatello.

"If it's what you think is best for me, I'll do it." I looked up, and he seemed relieved I wasn't putting up that much of a fuss. "Should I…take one now?"

"Are you still feeling tense?"

"A little, yeah."

"Try half of one, for starters. Never too sure how human medicine will work on turtles, so just snap it in two and tell me how you feel."

I pressed the cap down and gave it a twist. Pouring out a lone, dusty white pill into my palm, I broke it along the crease running down the middle and put half back in the bottle. I poked the fragment with my finger and stuck out my tongue, nestling it in the webbing underneath. Suddenly, my whole mouth tasted faintly like grapes or berries, and within seconds, the pill was gone. The tension in my jaw and temple, which I hadn't really noticed until then, seemed to dissolve away with the fruity flavor. My heartbeat started to slow to a reasonable pace.

"I feel…relaxed. My head's a lot quieter. Wow, that was fast." I blinked my eyes slowly, feeling like I just waded into a pool of slow-moving, imperceptible water. He scribbled in his notepad. Everything that had set me on edge seemed to be rolling off of me now.

"Then it's working exactly how I'd hoped." He smiled back at me. "Any drowsiness or headache?"

"Not really. It's a totally new feeling, but not drowsy so much as…tranquil?" He jotted another note. "Thank you, Donnie. It's great to be back on earth." I leaned across the table on my elbows, surprising him with a tender kiss on his lips.

"Great to have you back, too."

* * *

Thanks for the reads, yo!

From here on out, the whole "Noble Eightfold Path" theme is done.

That means, welcome to TNEP Section II: "The Soma Saga"!


	11. The Soma Saga I: Dreamtime

THE SOMA SAGA I: DREAMTIME

Underneath all the pressure, Leo's personality shone through in a way we hadn't seen since we were young. With no Splinter around to say otherwise, he'd moved the start of our morning training from 7 AM to 9:30, allowing us some much-appreciated time for sleep and breakfast. While half our sessions consisted of the same katas we'd been practicing for years, every other day he came up with something imaginative and refreshingly new. One morning, I woke up to find him and Raph bare-knuckle boxing with blindfolds on, both of them laughing and grinning like fools as they danced around in lock-step stance. On another occasion, he and Mike were sparring with my and Raph's weapons, the two of them delivering comic impressions as they impersonated us in combat. Any tension that used to fill the lair originating from Leo's being so high-strung had disappeared, and it was clear we all loved it.

Whenever he laid eyes me for the first time in the morning, he showered me with kisses and sweet-nothings, and increasingly hung around my lab instead of burying himself in extra meditation. While not understanding many of the details, he seemed fascinated by my biofuel work, which we punctuated with some informal sessions of therapy. More often than not, this took the simple form of casual conversation about the past and his current sense of self.

"I was sixteen when I started having a crush on you." He said nonchalantly, lying back down on my lab bench while I examined some bacterial cultures under my microscope. "You remember Splinter had us practice throwing each other up in the air to catch a ball before the other team could?"

"Vaguely, yes." I looked up from the lens. "Didn't Raph land on his head when Mike's hand slipped?"

"Oh god, yeah!" He cracked up with laughter. "Well, I think it was when my hands were around your hips…I could feel your heartbeat, and the breath moving in your chest. It felt new, suddenly. Like I'd been living with you my whole life, and never noticed how full of life you are."

"You held onto those feelings for four years, and never acted on them?"

"Tried to block it out of my head. Even though I didn't fully understand what made me feel that way, it seemed unnatural. Distracting, more like. Didn't seem appropriate to think of my brother like that."

"Understandable." I noted.

"What about you?" he asked. "When'd you start feeling into me?"

"Well, I can't say I really had a sex drive until a year or two ago. Even then, I thought of it more from an outside view, than ever thinking I'd take part in it."

"Classic Don." He chuckled. "Reading a biology textbook instead of erotica."

"Hey, now, it wasn't like that at all!" I stammered, a blush creeping across my face. "Really, it started with some dreams. They just seemed…I don't know…inapplicable to my life. Out of my control. And unnecessarily confusing, I guess."

"What kind of dreams?" he prodded, deviously.

"Err…They started with us just kissing and…fooling around. Then, uh…they gradually got more…vivid, and…"

"Relax, Donnie." He soothed. "You don't need to get embarrassed about stuff we've already done for real." Offhandedly, he added, "Maybe you should try these pills too, see if they help loosen you up."

Something about that last sentence piqued my concern.

"How many have you been taking, Leo?"

"Usually one after training, and one before bed."

"Usually?"

"Guess it depends how worked up I feel at the time. Yesterday, I took one after dinner when I called you up to my room. Tell me you didn't notice I was feeling a little more frisky, huh?"

Meeting his devilish smile, I had to admit the sex was wild. It made it tough to complain.

"Well…they aren't candy, Leo. The more you take, the more of a tolerance your body will build up, and the more withdrawal you'll feel when you're not dosed."

"I understand, Doctor Don." He laughed it off. "I'll be a good boy, I promise."

He rocked himself off the lab bench with his legs and landed on his feet like a cat. I watched as he left the lab and ran to the living room, where he jumped like a rocket to Superman across the couch and onto Raph and Mikey's unsuspecting laps. In just a week, his personality had changed so much, but I wasn't wholly sure whether to blame the drugs or to explain it as him flourishing without worrying about having another episode. The one observation that put me at peace was, despite his recent exuberance and lack of inhibition, he hadn't had gone into his dissociative state once since he'd started the medication. Side effects aside, everything seemed to be working well.

Those days, we were still getting back in the routine of living together. We'd only run one mission all together to the surface, which was mostly to visit April and Casey. Raph and Mike eloped topside once every couple of nights, fighting petty criminals dressed in their gaudy uniforms, now with Leo's permission. That left me to dive deep into my research when we weren't training, eating, or sleeping. When he wasn't in my lab, I found Leo kicked back in Splinter's easy chair or sprawled out on the living room floor, reading, writing, and drawing with vigor and interest I'd never known him to have. On one occasion, the sound of unfamiliar music echoing through house at night drew me out of the lab and to his ajar bedroom door. Previously, all I'd known Leo to listen to was more tame classical Japanese compositions. Peering into the dim light through the opening, I saw him gyrating his hips in time with the bass of his speakers, eyes sealed shut as he mouthed the chorus, " _Break it, drop it, drink it, spill it baby, touch your body, your body…_ "

"Leo?" Without a word, he shot me a glazed-eyed, open-mouthed smile, extending a hand out to pull me in while still dancing to the beat. Unsure of how to move, I let him lead me through the rhythm as the ethereal " _You gotta keep up, 'cause I've been gone, oh I've been gone…"_ slid me into the same trance. The wind of our dance put the flames of the candles on his shelves into a flutter, making our shadows vibrate almost in time to the plucky synthesizers of the music. His hands traced down the junction of my shell and sides, until they reached down and firmly planted right where my tail met the curve of my lower back, causing me to shudder as he grasped down. All the while, he ground the front of his shell against mine, sending blood rushing through my veins and putting my mind in a fever. His eyes drilled vacantly into mine as the music broke down into a slower tempo, and with his lips slightly agape, he leaned into my ear.

"Show me what happened in your dreams." His husky whisper sent lightning bolts down my spine, and I didn't realize I was standing square in front of his bed until he pushed us down into the sheets, his lips locking with mine.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the beginning of my new plot arc!

As a warning, the rest of this section will involve drug use much like this one did, though possibly on the part of the other three turtles, too.

For the curious, the song at the end is "Gone" by the Weeknd; if you haven't heard it already, I recommend taking a listen and realizing just how sexy of music these two were shaking it to! He's one of my favorite artists :)


	12. The Soma Saga II: Contraband

THE SOMA SAGA II: CONTRABAND

Panting like dogs and slightly bruised up, we finally made it back to the lair in one piece. Raph switched off the lights on his helmet and slid it off his head, wiping the sweat from his brow with the other hand. I pulled my cowl off and untied the cape on my back, tossing them and the grappling hook on the back of the couch as we both flopped into its cushions limply.

"Fucking hood rats." He grumbled, unclicking the fasteners on the chest of his armor. "Ought to sign with the Yankees if they love swinging their goddamn bats so hard."

"At least you were wrapped up in your garbage can suit, dude." I fished the remote out from between the cushions, where I'd left it. "The cape doesn't help against blunt objects."

"The cape doesn't help, period." He chuckled, peeling the steel and leather off his torso. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Don't be jealous just 'cause you aren't as aerodynamic as the Turtle Titan." I teased.

"Aerodynamics don't mean shit to those Purple Dragons. Only thing they fear is strength." He flexed one bicep nonchalantly, and I hung my arms around it.

"That's why I keep you around, Tortoise Boy. Every hero needs a sidekick to play the enforcer sometimes."

"You keep telling yourself that, kiddo." He stole the remote from my hands, and lazily flipped through the channels. Other than the TV, the whole lair was silent; judging by the darkness in the lab, Leo and Don were already tucked in for the night. The two of us smelled like sweat and blood, but as Raph wrapped an arm across my shoulders, I started to notice a foreign scent.

"What's that smell, bro?" I sniffed curiously. "You step on a skunk or something?"

"Not quite. Just took a little something from the 'evidence locker'." He fished a hand into his armored leggings, and pulled out a small baggie of shredded green matter, and an orange pack labeled 'Zig Zag'. "Figure those scums ain't gonna miss it while they're in the hospital."

"You took their drugs?"

"Not like I pocketed the coke they had on 'em. Just a little pot."

"Still though…I mean, as if your cigarettes aren't gross enough. Now weed?"

"Aw, don't be such a bitch, Mike. Leo said I could smoke in the lair, just didn't say what I could smoke." He pinched some of the plant shreds into the paper in his fingers, and the room smelled even more sweetly musky. "Casey and I tried it a couple times. Hell, I heard even April's smoked once or twice."

"Humans do all kinds of stupid stuff, Raph. Doesn't mean we have to."

"You've been watching too many after-school specials." He licked the end of the paper and rolled it tightly shut. "Ain't like one puff's gonna kill you." I watched in curiosity as he clicked his lighter and turned the end of the paper to embers, hearing it crackle as he held it to his lips. The smell in the room grew tenfold as he blew a delicate ring of smoke out of his mouth.

"You're such a bad influence." I huffed, pinching the joint from his fingers as he gestured my way.

"Don't front like you don't enjoy it." Unsure of exactly what to expect, I drew in a breath as I pursed my lips around it, and my mouth filled with the potent herbal flavor. "It's good bud, too. As far as Purple Dragons' shit goes."

Reflexively, my lungs weren't used to being filled with smoke, and I keeled over in a coughing fit as he grabbed it back from me. It took a few more passes before I started to feel anything other than a burnt throat, but gradually the cartoons on TV seemed funnier and my stomach growled louder. I felt lightheaded, but not in a bad way. My mind seemed to drift in every direction, but my eyes stayed locked on the screen.

"This is…weird." I mumbled.

"You're weird." Raph shot back. "Told you it wouldn't kill you." He peeled himself off the couch and strutted into the kitchen. I unglued my eyes from the television, and didn't really notice how off the size of the room appeared as my attention caught on the light glinting off Raph's steel-plated leggings. As if he were a mind reader, he came back from the kitchen with a half-eaten box of fridge pizza in his arms, and my mouth turned into a waterfall.

"See something you like?" He shot me a grin, eyes tinged with pink, and I passed him what was left of the joint as he kicked his leggings off and rejoined me on the couch. He wrapped around me from behind, and I rested my head on his chest as he slid the pizza box onto my lap. Every sensation seemed magnified; each inch where his chest met my shell felt electric, and tastes of cool marinara and stringy cheese seemed like I'd sensed them for the first time all over again. Our legs intertwined as we finished and chucked the box aside.

"You know what Casey told me the best part of when he smoked with April was?" His hot breath smothered my ear and neck.

"The pizza?" I looked back, bleary-eyed.

"The sex." His toe dragged a line down my calf and around the ball of my ankle. "Said it was fucking mind-blowing." I rolled over to meet him, smirk to smirk.

"Then blow my mind, Tortoise Boy."

* * *

Sorry for the little sub-1k update!

Just kind of cutting up the monotony of the Leo/Don-centric Saga. Plus, who doesn't love some stoned lovin'?


	13. The Soma Saga III: Celebration

THE SOMA SAGA III: CELEBRATION

Twenty-one years flew by in the blink of an eye. Sure, my memory had been spotty as of late, but it still blew my mind that we'd been on the earth for more than two decades. Being our first Mutation Day celebrated without Splinter, my first thought for a present was to call off training for the day, so all of us could sleep well into the mid-morning. I slinked out of Donatello's room while everyone was still asleep to set my other presents on the kitchen table: brand-new silk masks and pads, and weapons from a classical Japanese forge, crafted from _tamahagane_ jewel steel and burgundy-stained oak. They'd cost a pretty penny, but considering my brothers and I all split the bank account filled when Don and Mike had been getting paychecks, I figured they wouldn't mind a little impulse buy; heaven knows they all deserved the best I could find.

Shortly after laying my gifts out, Mike came sliding down the railing from his room.

"You're already up?" He pouted. "Way to ruin my surprise breakfast, spoil-sport."

"As if I didn't notice all the bacon and cinnamon bun dough in the fridge yesterday." I chuckled, as he rounded the corner to the living room. When he came back and noticed the new gear in his place at the table, he nearly dropped the box marked "PS4" in his arms.

"Leo…" He set it down. "These are totally fucking radical!" rolling the nunchaku in his fingers and seeing how the steel dragon inlay spiraled around the wooden shaft. Practically jumping onto me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, I planted a chaste kiss on his forehead.

"Happy Mutation Day, little bro."

Helping Mike crack the eggs for the French toast and chop the potatoes for the home fries was one of the first chances I'd got to spend time one-on-one with him since we'd come back to the lair. I learned what it was like for him to join the Justice Force, how he'd started acting on his feelings for Raph, and how they'd been making progress on busting up a Purple Dragons drug ring up top. I told him I wanted to tag along soon. Eventually, Raph woke up, and dragged his presents out of the closet: a new skateboard for Mike, bike for Don, and for me, a bright new chrome scooter. When Don rolled out of bed and brought us our new cellphones and laptops, we all dug in to Mike's gourmet breakfast. When the topic of how we would spend the rest of the day came up, Raph sauntered over to the freezer and fished around in the back.

"I got a couple ideas." He smirked. "Maybe it ain't five PM yet, but I figure nothing says 'twenty-first birthday' like this." He slammed a tall glass bottle of shochu, another of milky white sake, and four frosted shot glasses down on the table. "Shipped straight from Japan, courtesy of Casey." Mike and I looked on with ravenous interest, and Don with uncertainty, as he lined up four shots of the bitter-smelling shochu and slid them across the table to each of us.

"To being a turtle?" Mikey offered, raising his glass, and all four of us echoed in unison as our glasses clinked and a splash of the clear fluid sloshed down to the table. Raph and Mike hooked through each other's arms to rocket down their glasses, and following suit I tipped mine back. Wincing as I stomached the burn, I watched in laughter as Don eyed it hesitantly, reluctantly sipping from his glass only to almost spit out his mouthful and choking it down with a grimace. Mikey stuck his tongue out, but returned his glass to the table as Raph started pouring more. Donnie leaned across the table to whisper to me.

"Leo…you didn't take any medicine today, did you?" Raph slid my glass back to me, and I raised a finger to Don for a moment as I poured it straight down my throat, exhaling the potent vapors with a huff.

"Just half of one, I think."

"You think? It isn't supposed to be mixed with alcohol…"

My memories of the rest of the day are a bit of a haze. I remember trying out the new scooter at one point, attempting to jump the coffee table and landing face-first in the couch as Raph screeched to a stop on his rollerblades, bursting at the seams with laughter until he lost balance too. At one point, Mike hooked the new laptop Don gave him to the living room's speaker setup, and the heavy reggae bass from "Jamming" shook his shot glass off the coffee table, shattering on the floor. He took the bottle of sake off the DVD player and took a few hearty swigs as he laughed it off before Don snatched it from him and did the same. After a few moments, he rushed to the trashcan in the kitchen and folded in half, audibly filling the bag with the contents of his stomach. I held his shoulders, keeping my nose away from the can until all that came out of his mouth was foul air and wretched heaving noises, as Raph materialized behind us to berate Donnie and call him names.

Sometime after that, maybe hours, I remember Raph shouting terribly off-pitch into the Rock Band microphone in the living room, Don furiously clicking away on the guitar controller to keep pace with the angry metal. Mike and I were play-sparring in the weight room with our new weapons, and smartly I kept the sheaths on my swords, because neither of us was able to fight properly, let alone stay on our feet for too long. After one too many cheap shots to the side and quick bruises inflicted on tops of our heads, I threw my swords to the ground mock-dramatically and charged to tackle him at the waist, sending both of us tumbling and skidding on the concrete in a giggling, hiccupping whirlwind. Both lying on the cool grey floor, I got lost in the pale blue of his irises and boundless energy exuding from his smile. Gravity threw us toward each other. Our lips met, and when they parted, it didn't feel like either of us had made a mistake.

That didn't stop me from panicking about how wrong it was, though. Stumbling back to my feet, I scurried out of the room like a chased animal. Loyalty had been one of the few things grounding my identity in reality, and I'd left it there in the weight room lying beside Mike. Led only by that same fearful instinct, I found myself in my bedroom, rummaging through the nightstand recklessly until the small amber bottle met my fingers. Don told me I needed to stop thinking everything so deeply into everything I did, and the only thing that'd helped me forget moral worry was the pills. I needed them. Sliding one onto my fingertip, I let the weight of my mind slowly blink my eyelids down as the tart flavor coated my tongue. Twice I blinked, and that momentary blackness is the last thing I remember for a long while.

* * *

Cliffhangers are my thing now, if you haven't already caught that :)

For any of you made uncomfortable for all the drugs and drinking, I promise this is the last chapter solely devoted to the bros behaving like fraternity animals. Actual plot coming next chapter, I swear!

Please review and recommend!


	14. The Soma Saga IV: Torpor

THE SOMA SAGA IV: TORPOR

The headache simultaneously woke me up and kept me locked in bed. Gradually coming to, my body registered Raph's foul morning breath on my shoulder, and the uncomfortable stickiness of being too careless to shower before falling asleep. After a time writhing there between the sheets, the behemoth behind me peeled himself off the bed and stomped out of the room, clutching his head and grumbling nonsense under his breath. Shutting my eyes and rolling onto my back, I stayed there until I heard him reenter the room, water bottles in one hand and a bottle of Advil in the other.

"'M fucking shot." He groveled, popping a handful of the medicine down his throat and tossing me the bottle, which I missed in my dazed frame of mind.

"Same." I struggled to form words. "Don's gotta wake up and make coffee soon." Grabbing the water bottle from his hands, I did my best to chug it down, spilling a good amount out of the corners of my mouth and down onto the sheets. Raph wriggled back in behind me, and the only communication between us was the matching tempo of our breaths and the occasional groans and curses of discomfort. We faded in and out of sleep, waiting for our headaches to subside, until I heard feet rushing down the hallway toward us. Like a wrecking ball, Don burst into the room, eyes wide with panic.

"It's Leo." He gasped. "Not waking up." That was all we needed to hear to spring out of bed, struggling to maintain balance as we followed him down the hall to Leo's room, where wrapped haphazardly in his sheets, he lay motionless on the floor. "He's still breathing, but barely."

"You tried, like, putting cold water on his face or something?" I offered. Don didn't look pleased.

"Obviously." He spat, flustered. "It's more serious than that. His heartbeat is dangerously slow."

The three of us lifted him out of the bed, somehow managed not to trip down the stairs, and laid him out on the table in Don's lab. Our resident genius stuck some wired pads to his chest, and from the calm pace of the beeps on his computer screen, we could tell Leo was barely even still with us. Don hooked him up to a makeshift IV bag, just to get fluids in him, but he stayed in the same state.

"Donnie, how long has he been out?" I asked.

"I don't know. I found him like this when I went to his room, and got you guys right after."

"You mean you didn't crash with him last night?"

"Apparently not." He huffed. "I don't really remember everything that well."

"Well, shit." Raph muttered. "But how would he end up like this? We polished off the second bottle ourselves at, like, nine o'clock."

"Yeah, and the rest of us are still standing." I noted. "What gives?"

Donnie looked at the floor in awkward silence for a second.

"Well, I think the alcohol interacted with the etizolam that's accumulated in his system from the past couple weeks. The two are synergistic, and…"

"The what?" Raph raised an eyebrow. Don still wouldn't meet his glare.

"Leo…he's been on medication for about two weeks now."

"For what?"

"Ever since he left, he'd been having panic attacks. Flashbacks, sometimes. You guys didn't notice how he'd suddenly go out of it, like his mind wasn't in his body?"

"Maybe a little." Raph admitted, skeptically. "Only time I started thinking he was really acting funny was around two weeks ago."

"Yeah, Don. You mean the stuff you've been giving Leo is what made him get all…loose? Like, more chill?" Like a cornered animal, Donnie looked up at us.

"Yeah, okay? I knew the side effects were too drastic…I told him not to drink…but what was I thinking?" he asked himself. "I should have known this would happen. I just…I wanted him to enjoy himself, maybe go back to like he was before. I wanted him to be here with me…with us, I mean."

"Chill, Don." Raph interrupted. "We ain't blaming you. But you're the one with the brains to get him outta this. How're we gonna do it?" Already rustling through the depths of his lab's corners, he produced what looked like a scuba tank and a gas mask.

"Well, putting him on the IV and getting this oxygen pump on him will keep him stable. I have some activated charcoal tablets to deal with the alcohol still in his system, and enough epinephrine to cut through the respiratory depression. But the etizolam makes it complicated."

"The fuck is 'etizolam', dude? Where'd you get this shit?"

"It's a research chemical, still unregulated, but close to Valium or Xanax. I found it on the darknet, so whoever sent it to me is completely untraceable. I tested its quality myself, though; it's not like it was laced with anything."

"Well, what's the antidote?"

"It's a very obscure compound…most of the literature about its toxicity is in Russian. Judging by its therapeutic effects, though, a benzodiazepine antagonist should do the trick. But where would I find flumazenil just lying around?"

"Uh…the same place a human would go if they got too pilled out and needed a detox." I answered. "The hospital."

"So, what, we're breaking into an emergency room in broad daylight?" Don scoffed. "I don't even know if the stuff will work!"

"You…" Raph nearly poked a hole in Don's chest. "…are not going anywhere, egghead. Mike and I are scoping out St. Luke's Hospital, and waiting 'til the night shift to break in and loot the place. What, you think Leo's gonna be fine here by himself?" Don steamed for a second, angrily baring down at Raph as if to protest, but after a moment Raph whipped around to find his weapons and armor. I followed.

* * *

*insert obligatory apology for short chapter here*

Told you there'd be a twist! Thanks for reading :)


	15. The Soma Saga V: Infiltration

THE SOMA SAGA V: INFILTRATION

The pale blue metal of John Jay's roof was still warm with summer heat, even hours after sunset. Eyes glued to our target across Tenth Ave, I paced back and forth to stop the soles of my boots from sticking to the roof panels. My cigarette was down to its last drag's worth, and before instinctually flicking it down to the street, I returned to the base of the radio antenna, where our bait had given up struggling against the manriki binding him in place.

"Always wondered how much a tattoo's gotta hurt." I growled through my helmet. "Been thinking about getting some ink myself. What'd it feel like, punk? After your little initiation bullshit and all." Poising the embers between my fingers, I found the eye of the purple dragon etched in his arm, and drove the butt in like a flu shot as he groaned into the gag in his mouth. "Something like that?"

"Stop playing with the bait, Raph." Mike snapped behind me.

"It's Nightwatcher, jackass."

"Whatever, Tortoise Boy. We need him ready for delivery."

"I'll wrap him up with a bow and slap some postage stamps on him, then." I chuckled, slamming a fist into his left temple and knocking his head back into place with a jab to the right. His eyelids fluttered hopelessly, and from my waistband I pulled the little bag of powder and cut piece of straw we'd found in his pockets when we snatched him from the alley. Smothering his mouth with my glove and blocking one nostril with the other, I popped the straw into the powder and shoved it roughly into his nose. Resisting the urge to breathe for a moment, he finally caved, and the contents of the baggie disappeared. Within seconds, the lowlife's pupils opened wide, and within the chains, he started to twitch nervously. A swift kick to the stomach helped that to subside a bit. "Looks like this tweaker's ready for detox."

"Einstein, this is Triton. You have the layout ready?" Mike pressed a finger to the earpiece in his cowl, and I heard Don buzz back through mine too.

"Triton, this is Einstein. The schematic's all uploaded, and your location's on the map."

"We ready to move out?" I asked them.

"Kamikaze, wait until there's more cover." Almost on cue, sirens blared and lights flashed as two ambulances pulled in front of the hospital. Hesitating until they'd unloaded their stretchers, Mike swung his hook around and tossed it, clinking as it latched onto the ledge of the roof across the street. "And please stick the codenames."

"This is Triton." Mike cut in. "Operation Christmas is a go." Unraveling my chains, I gave our inebriated hostage to Mike, and he swung down to the entryway. I jumped down to the next roof, my boots thudding as they hit the beige stone.

"Einstein, this is Kamikaze. You ready to cut the lights?"

"This is Einstein. Roger that."

On cue, the streetlights on the block and floodlights at the hospital door went black. Waiting until there was an opening in the traffic, I pounced down to street level and sprinted across to the other side. Rounding the corner just as they flickered back on, I found a fire escape just within jumping reach, and threw hand over hand until I saw the whirring boxes of the fans on the roof. I dangled a manriki into the furious blades, holding tight through the chinking and clunking until they ground to a halt, and pulled the grate cover off so I could slide through.

Immersed in darkness, I clicked on my visor lights, and landing on a horizontal portion, I crawled through the narrow airshaft until it met the opening of an elevator shaft. Leaping into the open space, I latched onto the cable and slid down until my feet met the descending elevator.

"This is Triton, the ER took the bait. Everything's going according to plan." That meant Mike had paraded into the emergency room all dramatically, delivering the tweaked-out Purple Dragon to the doctors, and was probably signing autographs or otherwise milking his stupid superhero shtick. A soft ding resounded beneath my feet, telling me I was right where I was supposed to be. Or rather, right where Don directed it to go. While the egghead was never our strongest asset in physical combat, his backing to run all the backstage details of our heist was a godsend.

"This is Kamikaze. In position at the second floor."

"This is Einstein, I have security footage of the ER staff entering a closet about fifty feet east of your position. Looks like our target."

"Roger that." Before we left for the mission, Don had been panicking about how to find the specific stuff that Leo needed in a whole hospital. I'd been the one to suggest that the best way to find an overdose cure was to give 'em an overdose and watch where they went. Add Mike as the distraction, and we had our plan. I hopped up to the air duct for the floor we needed, and trudged through on my knees and shoulders until Don buzzed in my ear.

"Kamikaze, you're above the target. The room's empty."

"Roger that." I head-butted the grate out of my way, gripped the opening and swung down into the cramped, dim closet. Rows of tiny glass vials covered the shelves, their white labels giving away their alphabetical order. "Einstein, remind me what the target is."

"Flumazenil. Might be listed as Anexate." Running a gloved finger along the edge of the shelf, my eyes scanned hungrily until they locked onto a match. I clutched two vials in each hand.

"That's a go on flumazenil. You ready to cut the lights, Einstein?"

"Roger that. Triton, ready to evacuate?"

"Roger that, Einstein. Ready on signal."

"Go." I swung my leg around the limited space, and broke through the metal lock of the door on impact. As expected, the lights in the hallway were all off, though some illumination poured in from the rooms. Not wasting any time, I bolted toward the end of the hall, a great glass pane from floor to ceiling. My shoulder met it first, and tumbling I went, hitting the ground two stories below as glass tinkled behind me and the lights returned. The caped silhouette hunched over the manhole in the alley before me told me I'd taken the right exit, and as he dragged the heavy metal across the asphalt, I pressed back into my earpiece as I followed him down the ladder.

"This is Kamikaze, see you in a minute." Landing in the sewer with a splash after closing the manhole back up, Mike and I started our sprint through the familiar midtown tunnels.

"They loved me in there, bro." He gloated. "Everyone wants a piece of the Turtle Titan."

"I can only imagine."

"Hell, I bet I could've just walked in there and asked the receptionist for some prescriptions. She'd have done anything to get that picture with me for her daughters."

"Wish you'd have thought of that before we decided I'd have to play cat burglar in a fuckin' emergency room." Mike stuck his tongue out in response.

* * *

Chapters like this make me wish I had any semblance of artistic talent so I could make a comic, or even animate a little. Nothing more badass than the two loose cannons of the TMNT pulling off an action movie heist!

Please review!


	16. The Soma Saga VI: Vigil

THE SOMA SAGA VI: VIGIL

"Hold his wrists, okay?"

"Why?" Raph questioned. "What's gonna happen?"

"Jerking out his IV tube is what's not going to happen." I poked the plastic hose with a syringe, pressing the plunger and watching the drops intertwine with the flow of saline. "There's the flumazenil." I grabbed the second syringe from the table and repeated. "And there's the epinephrine. Mike, start getting the icepacks on him."

"His skin feels cold enough, dude." Mike noted.

"Not for long." I barked. The beeping tempo on the heart rate monitor became noticeably quicker. "These two should shock him out of his state, but with this much adrenaline in his veins, it's probably going to cause some hyperthermia. And would you two stop asking so many questions?" My eyes shot to the computer screen to see how his vital signs were reacting to the dose. "I know what I'm doing."

"Sorry, Doctor D." Mike grabbed a couple handfuls of ice packs from the bucket on the floor and slid them in around Leo's shell. His heartbeat quickened. I cupped an ear to his chest, and his breathing had gone from shallow to full, exercising pace. My fingers lingered on his solar plexus, noticing how warm he was to the touch.

"More ice on his head and neck. Raph, make sure you've got him tight." Suddenly, like a fish crashing through the surface of the water, Leo's eyes burst open. His mouth was panting, and chest heaving up and down with ragged breath.

"Agh!" he panted. "Ah, shit!" His eyes darted around the room, but I wasn't sure his mind could register where he was. Fibrous tendons crawled in his wrist against Raph's grip, as every muscle in his body yearned to contract. I slammed his legs to the table as they began to flail around and draw up toward his chest. Hunched over between his knees, I stared straight into his eyes in attempt to get his attention.

"Leo." No response. Mike secured his head, and his eyes locked on mine. "Leo. I need you to focus." His torrent of curses calmed relatively into a constant heavy pants and gasps as his wild animal gaze stared back at me.

"Donnie." He breathed.

"Yeah, Leo. It's me. You need to calm yourself down."

"Ngh!" He pined through barred teeth.

"Come on. Just take deep breaths. Meditate." By this point, the antidotes were already fully absorbed, but I knew his body needed to stabilize soon, or his heart would be under way too much strain. He puckered his eyes, and I could practically hear the ice packs sizzling on his brow as a waterfall of sweat covered him from head to toe. He groaned within his locked jaw, but in between cries, I could tell he was making an effort to count out his breaths. His mind's discipline over his muscles was locked in a battle with the chemical tremor in his system. The sounds he made gradually subsided into whines and gasps, as his limbs came to rest on the table in relative peace.

On the monitor, his vitals looked within normal range. It appeared he'd drifted back into sleep just as quickly as he'd broken out of it. A couple prods to the cheek confirmed he was out cold again, but everything pointed to the antidote having worked perfectly. Mike's and Raph's gazes were locked on mine, waiting for some kind of information.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Raph murmured.

"Looks like it. He's capable of consciousness, but clearly still needs rest. We have to let the charcoal in his stomach absorb any remaining toxins. But we need to keep an eye on him to make sure he stays stable, at least through the night."

For the rest of the evening, we camped out in my lab, playing cards for a while and streaming a couple Bruce Lee movies on my computer to pass the time. Leo's condition stayed uneventful, except for causing a bit of a fluster when he started snoring. Tired from the stakeout and heist earlier in the night, Raph passed out in his chair midway through _Fist of Fury_.

"What do you think Leo's gonna be like when he wakes up?" Mike asked out of the blue when the credits rolled.

"Still pretty messed up." Don sighed. "Taking him off the etizolam will cause some intense withdrawals. Plus, his memories of the last couple weeks might be…nonexistent, for all I know. Maybe even further than that."

"Damn." Mike paused to yawn. "Listen, Donnie. I figure this whole episode proves we shouldn't be keeping any secrets from each other."

"You're right." I wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"So, yesterday, before Leo passed out…he kissed me. Or maybe I kissed him. Well, we kissed." I tried my best not to show any jealousy.

"Does Raph know?"

"Yeah, I told him while we were topside. He wasn't mad; said he'd get his revenge by kissing you, but he might have been joking.

"Oh…" I felt a blush tinge my cheeks.

"Anyways…Do you think I should talk to Leo about it? When he wakes up, and all?"

"No." I answered hesitantly. "I don't think he'll remember a moment of yesterday. Plus, it was the drugs and liquor that kissed you, as far as I'm concerned. Leo hasn't been in full control of himself for a long time now."

"Fair enough." He sighed. "But it's not like I didn't like it. You don't ever think about…I don't know, mixing it up?"

"I'd prefer not to think about it until Leo's back, and we can all talk about it together." I let my head rest in my hands, looking down at the tiles on the floor. "Besides, it's not like I don't love you and Raph too. But I could tell from a mile away that you guys have something special. And I'd like to think Leo and I have the same thing going on. Guess we'll see if that's still the case when he wakes up."

"Aw, D, I didn't mean to get you thinking like that." He got up from his seat on the floor and embraced me tightly. "Don't trip, bro. I'd never step on anything of yours' that you really care about. I'm sorry for even letting the kiss happen. And you're right, about having something special and all. The past few months have been pretty rough, but I think we all learned some pretty cool things from them, too. Cool enough that I know he's gonna remember what you and him have when he wakes up." His palm came to rest on my shoulder with fatigued grip. "You changed his world, dude."

"I just hope I can change it back to normal, too. Considering it's really my fault he is where he is right now."

"Any of us would have done the same if we knew as much as you do. That's why I know Leo's gonna be okay. I believe in you, Doctor D." He stretched his arms over his head in a catlike way, a yawn erupting from his mouth. "Gonna crash on the couch in the living room. You should catch some z's, too."

"Once he stays stable for a couple more hours, I'll be able to sleep easier."

"Total Don move." He smiled. "Holler if you need me."

"G'night." Mike paced out of the lab, but paused for a moment in the doorway.

"One more thing, Donster. You don't have to answer this if you don't wanna, but…" he hesitated, finding his own peculiar way to phrase it. "…When you and Leo fuck, who's…uh…the dude?"

"You mean who's on top?" I corrected, feeling blindsided by his question as my cheeks felt hotter again.

"Yeah. I've been dying to know, I guess."

"Well, back and forth, really, at first. Recently though, he's been letting me top more often." Mike's face lit up with a dumbfounded glow.

"Woah…" His eyes narrowed and a mischievous grin crawled across his face. "'He's been letting you', huh? I see you, D."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I stammered.

"You two are low-key mad freaky. That's radical." He cackled childishly at the new knowledge.

"What about you?" I shot back.

"You really gotta ask?" He continued laughing. "Tried topping once, and the drama queen put a stop to that real quick. Not that I wouldn't be a totally gnarly stud at it if I got the chance, though."

"I can only imagine."

* * *

Decided to lighten the mood at the last minute. Tired of all the darkness and drama, aren't you?

JK I already have the next super awesome plot arc planned out. Kinda.

Review and fav so I know what the details should be?


	17. The Soma Saga VII: Vengeance

THE SOMA SAGA VII: VENGEANCE

Withdrawal is no cakewalk. It took until two days after first waking up for my mind to process what my brothers told me had happened. The three of them devoted themselves to my recovery, from Don staying up with me through sleepless nights, to Mike cooking gargantuan portions of my favorite foods in an attempt to reawaken my appetite, to Raph building my strength back up through all the muscle tremors and cramps. It was a team effort; to show solidarity, Raph and Mike gave up smoking and drinking, and Don even quit his coffee habit. They knew their own resulting headaches or irritability were molehills compared to the mountain of my recovery.

The withdrawal made my panic attacks and anxiety return tenfold. They'd strike me randomly, with no provocation, and lasted for what felt like eternities. Now, instead of handing me a pill, Don had a more 'hands-on' approach to treating me in my state. He'd lay me down on a couch or bed, snuggle himself alongside me in a chaste way, and lock his fingers with mine, telling me everything was going to be okay and reminding me to breathe. Between that and leading me through meditation three or four times a day, Donnie had really become my anchor. I wasn't in any state to go further with our intimacy than that, but clearly that wasn't an issue for him; he was just looking out for me, trying to ground me there in the real world.

Other than my brothers and my own will, nothing stopped me from getting lost in the nightmares and the hallucinations that I couldn't often distinguish from one another. I wished I could crawl out of my own shell, to rid myself of the constrictive, confused haze I felt buried in both night and day. Despite all that, I didn't think to harm myself or try to end it all. Having three guardian angels orbit me around the clock, and submitting to their care and responsibility, was the best medicine I could ask for. No matter how much I thought Tylenol would ease my migraines or chills, or Nyquil would help me find some kind of restful sleep, Don was strict about my detox being completely drug-free. Pharmaceuticals were what made the problem worse, he told me, so there was no sense in using them to try to improve it.

One effect of coming off the pills was feeling every pain increase drastically, but I pushed through the burn of exercise out of principle and a need to release anxiety, even if it meant I was too sore to move my arms afterward. Once, after a light weightlifting set with Raph, Donnie hit the showers with me and had to wash my whole body for me. Before the overdose, I'd have enjoyed it, but in the racing mentality that haunted me since I'd woken up, my eyes started to tear up as his arms wrapped around my waist to scrub around the base of my tail. I let out a muffled sob into his shoulders, and he dropped the soap in shock, not quite sure how to comfort me. So much of me wanted what we had before, to give in and make love, but all my negative thoughts about the implications flooded back every time I humored the idea. The constant conflict between the two was the hardest part of getting better.

After two weeks, I was finally sleeping restfully and seeing with enough clarity to start something resembling regular training with my brothers. We moved at a beginner's pace, but simply going through the motions at all reminded me what it felt like to have some purpose in life. Raph had stepped up to lead our practices until I'd improved more, and even still looking slightly pale and hollow, I was still eager to take the reins back from him. It was the first time I'd ever seen our ninjitsu training from their perspective, following one of our brothers as leader. I accepted my limitations with as much grace as I could manage, but Raph was more a strategist than a sensei. Practices under him meant close-quarters hand combat, hitting targets with blowguns and throwing knives, and improve weapons training with metal pipes or lengths of rope. Though at first, my body was unsure of its movements, I forced my mind to take control and concentrate on doing the best I could to prove I was still the leader. No matter how much discomfort it caused, I breezed through every lesson after getting the basic gist of Raph's style.

"Hey, I been waiting a long time to take a crack at this 'fearless leader' gig." He told me one morning after training. He popped a toothpick in and chewed it between his teeth, as he'd taken up in the process of kicking cigarettes. "But I'll make a deal with you. Mike and I have had our eye on a warehouse in South Queens that's moving a lot of Purple Dragon product onto the street. That's what all my training's been about. Originally, I was gonna take him in as my partner, and let you run tech support in the Battle Shell with Don. But if you're up to it, you come in with me and prove you can run the show again. Mike'll be lookout."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Mike huffed. "You know how many gangbangers I had to knock around to find out about the warehouse?"

"I said, Mike'll be lookout."

"Are you out of your mind, Raphael?" Don interjected. "Leo hasn't been topside once yet, let alone in combat with potentially dozens of Purple Dragons!"

"Which is why I'll have his back if he needs me." Raph put his foot down. "Leo's healing made all of us stronger. Between training like we've been doing, and kicking smoking, drinking, and...everything else that's been going on, the team's more prepared than ever to handle this." He turned back to me. "So, what do you say?" It took me a moment to process it all.

"I'm in." I finally declared. "Enjoy your last night as leader." That elicited a smile from him.

Seeing as all three of my brothers had been going topside in disguise only now, I dug around in the closet before we left for the rumpled hoodie and oversized jeans that made up my street wear. Sliding on the beanie and pocketing my sunglasses until we hit the surface, I shut my eyes and drew in a deep breath as I shut the door behind me. My feet were starting to tingle from the worries I had about the night's mission. When my eyes opened, Don was hanging in the doorway, looking straight at me.

"You good to go?" he asked. I put my worry aside to smile.

"Hell yeah."

Raph laid out his instructions for the mission as we made our way through the tunnels to our garage topside, and drilled them again as we cruised through the Midtown Tunnel in the back of the Battle Shell. I repeated them in my head even as Donnie parked the van about a block away from our target, in an alley opposite the murky waters of Newtown Creek, glittering with the reflection of the city lights. Mike hopped out of the back door, and we heard the sounds of him scampering up the fire escape from inside.

"This is Triton, camp is set up and there's no ducks on the water." His voice buzzed in my earpiece.

"This is Einstein, roger that." Don got out of the driver seat and flicked on the monitors along the side of the interior. "You guys ready?"

"This is Kamikaze." Raph slid his helmet over his face. "Operation Nightshade is a go."

"This is Brahma. Moving to the dock." Out the back we burst, hugging the shadows along the wall and rolling like pill bugs across the empty street until we could duck back into invisibility along the edge of the warehouse.

"Team Brahma-kaze, hold position." Mike buzzed in our ears, and we became statues. A hooded figure emerged from the office door, lighter clicking in his hands as he put a cigarette to his lips. Suddenly, he froze in place. A hand rose precariously to his neck, and I could make out the silhouette of a blow dart just below his jaw as he slumped to the ground.

"Thanks, Triton." I sighed. We gingerly stepped around the body, and rounded the corner to the loading area, where a stack of shipping containers gave us a path to the roof. We scampered up to the top, Raph jumping the gap to the warehouse roof first and I following close behind. A row of glass panes on each side of the slanted roof gave us a view inside. Seven or eight workers were unpacking crates in front of the loading bay and stacking the boxed contents among the countless others. From their vibrant tattoos and ridiculous clothes, I could tell they were Purple Dragons even from this height.

"You go in by the doors, and I'll rout them from behind." I offered.

"I'm still the leader, ain't I?" He scoffed. "They don't look armed. We go in right in the middle, back-to-back, and I'll focus on taking out that guy…" he pointed a gloved finger toward the hulking, shaved-headed figure closest to the door. "…First. Then we move clockwise, watch each other's shells." I was taken aback by Raph's level of strategy. It reminded me that, twice now, he regularly went to the streets to pull stunts like this when the rest of us had taken different paths. His whole 'lone wolf' shtick actually made him a far stronger leader than I'd given him credit for.

"This is Einstein. Pulling the curtain in three…two…one." Don announced, right as the whole building went dark. The smashing of windows echoed through the warehouse as we kicked through and dropped down. As voices shouted to one another in the blackness, I remembered where each had been standing before the lights were cut, and bulleted from one to the next clockwise with my swords in full swing. Despite tripping up a bit as I adjusted to the constraints of street clothes, I felt safe cloaked in the darkness, each incapacitated body hitting the floor as I moved about with precision. With a few opponents, I clutched the handles of my katana lengthwise and danced with the shifty street-fighter stance Raph trained us to move with.

"Kamikaze here, curtains back." Raph barked into his helmet, and the lights flickered on just as Raph kicked the burly skinhead, now unconscious, back into a stack of boxes. He picked one up and peeled back the tape from the brown cardboard. Inside was a grid of small cardboard dividers, separating white-capped bottles from clinking into one another. Picking one up between his fingers, I could hear a gasp through his helmet as he rolled it around to read the label. Without a word, he tossed it to me. It caught me off guard, and it fumbled through my hands, orange glass tinkling across the cement floor behind me. I turned to see the mess, sixty tiny white pills littered among the shards. The powdery discs bore a familiar imprint, and the scent of saccharine berries lingered in the air. I lost myself in it for a moment.

"I was lookin' forward to showing you why I needed you to cover my back when we came in." Raph nudged me, shaking me out of my state. He straightened out his arm in front of my eyes, revealing a fine black hose running from the pack-like hump in his back armor, through the arm plate and to an opening just behind his knuckles. His hand landed in mine, and I felt a round button in the palm of his glove. "But seeing what's in here, I figure you should do the honors. If you're cool with it."

"Yeah..." I muttered. "Dramatic irony, or something like that."

"Plus, I heard the way you were fighting back there. Sounded like light work. Since it looks like it's a couple minutes past midnight, and you proved you're still pretty fearless...I guess you won the bet, Fearless." His free fist met mine between us with a thud, Raph's elegant way of passing me back the torch. "This is Kamikaze. Time to start the oven." I grasped his hand, squeezing the button and sending a jet of flame out of his knuckles.

"Woah."

"Fooled around with a Camelback to make this. It was Mike's idea." I stepped behind him to grip his flamethrower from a safe distance, and let it rip across the stack of boxes before us. Up in smoke they went, catching ablaze like dry tinder. My soul felt liberated, like the weight it'd been carrying was spiraling up through the windows on the roof among the noxiously sweet fumes.

* * *

Thus ends 'The Soma Saga'! Mad love for reading it all.

For the curious, etizolam is a real thing (also still legal in the US) and the all overdose antidotes and withdrawal symptoms are based on similar experiences some people I'm close to have gone through. In the words of Chance the Rapper, "Xanax the new heroin." Hence, the moral of this plot arc (and thus also TNEP Part 1) is to not mess around with medication when what you need is meditation :)

Please please please review, and enjoy some of my lighter-hearted drabbles while I work out the sixes and sevens of the next serious arc.


	18. Interlude: Swollen

SWOLLEN

"Kicking ass and catching babes." Casey answered, punctuated by a sip from his can of beer. "That's the only reason I lift, bro."

"You're telling me the strength itself don't mean shit to you? Or the stress release?" Raph rebutted.

"I train mad light now, so it don't feel the same. Two years of power lifting, plus Ape's good cooking, bulked me up to a good place. From here on out, it's high-rep sets and cardio. No point in being mega strong if you ain't light on your feet, too."

"Yeah, I did something similar for a little while." Raph slurped from his iced tea. "When I was twelve."

"Don't front like you ain't seen the results, bro." Casey stuck his forearms out straight and flexed his wrists, showing off every bulging vein and twitching ligament crawling under his skin. "I'm looking mad vascular." It was true; in the couple months that had passed since I'd last seen him, he'd gone from having a slight 'dad body' to being completely shredded.

"All you're looking like is like you need some more beef in your diet, dude." Raph huffed. "No body fat means no padding for bruises or cuts."

"Oh, so that's your excuse?" I teased. "You wouldn't be talking so big if your shell didn't hide that beer belly underneath."

"Don't drink anymore, shell-for-brains, remember?" He shot back. "Besides, I'd rather be a little overstuffed than a scrawny wimp like you."

Casey cursed at the TV as the Blue Jays scored another run on the Mets just as the game ended, sealing the game at 6-1. Hitting the bathroom as the commercials started to roll, my eye caught on the reflection in the mirror as I washed my hands. There were no pulsing veins or taut cables of ligament, just wrists, looking so much more frail than any of the others in Casey's apartment (at least while April was visiting her family). Even with Leo's condition, I was vying for second-to-last in the muscle contest among the four brothers, just barely more built than Donnie. Since we were little, Raph had always had the jump on us as far as size went, but over that span of time, there was no excuse for me not to have bulked up too.

As Raph took my place in the bathroom before we left, Casey pulled a mid-sized bottle out of his supplement cabinet in the kitchen.

"Yo Mikey!" he called out. "I know Raph and you have been on this whole 'no test boosters, no pre-workout' thing recently, but if you really wanna pack on some more muscle, give this a try." He tossed the bottle to me, and I read the bold-faced 'CREATINE' on the label. "It ain't steroids or nothing crazy, but enough to get you a major pump on. I dunno how many babes are looking to hook up with a mutant turtle, but on the off-chance you guys find one, you'll thank me later." He turned his head and flexed his arms up like a Greek statue. "Ladies go crazy for a shredded bod." I withheld a chuckle.

"Thanks, dude." I popped it into my backpack just before Raph rounded the corner. We exchanged fist-bumps with Casey, and dipped back through the sewers to the lair in relative silence. We posted up on the couch in the living room while Don and Leo meditated in the training room, and as I flipped through the channels, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Raph flicking through a workout magazine. Beneath the title 'PUMP', a freakishly built, tattooed shirtless hunk grinned devilishly on the cover underneath the subtitles 'Lift harder' and 'Look like a real man.'

For whatever reason, it threw me into a funk. I'm just as much a man as Casey (well, maybe not in a biological sense, but at least as much a man as Raph.) Raph calling me a 'scrawny wimp' was just his usual poking fun, but there he lay next to me, taking up almost two-thirds of the couch with his commanding heft, looking at pictures of other fit, hunky bodies, after we'd just hung out with his best friend, another well-muscled Adonis. Raph's body was one of my favorite things in the world (Lord knows it makes up for his personality) but I didn't dig the vibe of being his 'chick' that went crazy for his 'real man' bod. Sure, he had his little stint as leader of the pack, but that never meant the two of us weren't equal. Finding myself underneath him in bed, and the showers, and the couch, et cetera, didn't mean I was actually below him, did it?

Before crashing for the night, I filled a glass of orange juice halfway and took it into my room. For once, I didn't feel like sleeping in Raph's pad. Pulling Casey's bottle out of my backpack, I read the fine print on the back for instructions. It said to use one or two scoops before a workout for increased results. Interpreting that a little creatively, I screwed the cap open and heaped five or six scoops into the glass, swirling it around and gulping down the gritty mixture. I figured it'd show me some visible results by training tomorrow, and hopefully Raph would notice.

After an uneventful night sleeping alone, the first thing I noticed upon waking was how dry my mouth felt and how full my bladder was. Holding my knees together and gingerly darting down the hall to the bathroom, I sighed with ecstasy as the pressure relieved after a lengthy piss. Bending down to the faucet to tame my cottonmouth, what I saw in the mirror made me shriek like the female lead in a horror flick.

I looked like the unholy spawn of Godzilla and a sumo wrestler. My face was puffed up like I'd won a lifetime free pass to a buffet, and my limbs had swelled so much that it looked like I'd been overinflated. Inside my shell, I could feel my gut pressed tight against the chest plate, like I was trying to hide a beach ball. All in all, the oversized toddler looking back at me in the mirror proved my little experiment had fucked up big time.

"Mike? What's wrong?" Don pounded on the door.

"Uh…it's all good, dude!" I hollered back. "Just fell in the bowl is all. Got my tail wet."

"You sure?" the door clicked open, and I cursed under my breath for forgetting to lock it. His jaw dropped when he laid eyes on me, and his hand rose to cover his mouth as he held back laughter. Leo appeared behind him, and his eyes shot open to the size of dinner plates.

"Oh god. What did you do?"

"Nothing, bro. Casey gave me this workout supplement, and I tried some last night, and woke up like this!" I exclaimed.

"Ugh…it was creatine, wasn't it?" Don uttered. "You do know we aren't humans, right Michelangelo? Our bodies don't process things the same way that people's do. Mutant or not, we're still reptiles, and any creatine supplementation will radically shift your water metabolism."

"How was I supposed to know?" I cried. "He said it would help me get a pump on, not look like a hot air balloon!"

"Proof you shouldn't take medical advice from Casey Jones." Leo shook his head. "Why'd you try the stuff anyway?"

"I dunno…" I scratched at the back of my neck. "Case took it, and now he's all huge and muscley and stuff. I just wanted to get as jacked as him. Getting tired of Raph walking around looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger, making me feel like Sigourney Weaver."

"She wasn't in Terminator, dipshit, it was Linda Hamilton." A gruff voice sounded around the corner. Raph burst out laughing as soon as he saw what'd happened. "Jesus, Mike, someone forget to lock the snack cupboard up last night?"

"Not fair…" I grumbled. "All your fault anyways." I stomped off to my room in a huff, dramatically slamming the door behind me before stomping back out between them and commandeering the bathroom for the second time in five minutes.

Don said the only way to get my body back the way it was would be to sweat all the water out, so while the rest of them ate breakfast and trained, I holed myself up in the weight room, doing pushups and jumping jacks until the floor was covered in puddles. After what felt like a thousand sets, and two thousand bathroom breaks, the swelling had gone down enough that the openings of my shell weren't cutting off circulation to my arms and legs anymore. Feeling completely spent, while still pretty bloated, I hit the showers, letting the tepid water splash straight on my face in an attempt to cool down.

"Thought you could use some help." A voice came from the door, clicking it shut behind him. "Figured you'd barely be able to see your toes, let alone wash 'em."

"Ha ha, Raph." I uttered flatly as he walked up behind me. "Very funny."

"Listen bro, why'd you go and try some stupid shit like this?" He cupped a palm around the curve of my butt. "You know you don't gotta impress me."

"Doesn't stop me from wanting to." I batted his hand aside. "I was trying to prove I'm just as tough and manly as you, dude. Not a wimp."

"I figured it was something like that. You don't gotta be insecure about what you look like, or how people think of you. Cause all that matters is, you're my little bro, and I love everything about you. Even when you look like the white dude from Big Hero Six."

"But I don't want to be always be the little bro, you know?" He raised an eyebrow at me as he gradually caught on. "Sometimes, I wanna take a crack at…being the big bro, know what I mean? Feel what it's like to be the top dog."

"Well, uh…" he flicked open the oily cap of the familiar plastic bottle he was hiding in his hand. "…If that's what'll make you feel better, I'm game to take another crack at it."

* * *

Just some fluff with social commentary on 'bottom shaming' and male body image issues. Moral: be at peace with who you are, what you look like, and what you're into.

Hope you liked it!


	19. Interlude: Lucidity

LUCIDITY

Clothed only by darkness and the infinite drone of cars in the street, my feet clanged up the fire escape, flying from level to level. The building seemed to stretch into the sky itself, its roof shrouded in clouds. Endlessly I made my way to the top, finally passing through the smoggy mist to where I could see the top. Toes latching onto the ledge of the roof, I became aware of an intense heat radiating onto my face; the world below the clouds disappeared, and the only solid ground was a rocky rim circling the bubbling magma pit before me. This earth crumbled between my toes, and tumbling like a pebble I went toward the center. The heat intensified, and I squeezed my eyes shut as the heat intensified, and my feet started to singe.

"Happened again, huh?" Don soothed as I jolted awake.

"Yeah." I murmured, catching my breath as he wrapped me tighter in our sleeping embrace. "Same dream, too."

"Aw, Leo. You've been doing so well in the daytime."

"Even when it's not nightmares, my dreams are crazy vivid. It's like being trapped in a movie theatre."

Like every other day that started this way, I composed myself in a few minutes for breakfast and training. Don was right; during the day, I had pretty solid handle on the straggling symptoms of withdrawal, minus the occasional headaches or random space-outs. For all intents and purposes, I was back in full gear, but the constant threat of night terrors was only adding to the difficulty I already had at getting well rested. Between that and our collective decision to stop drinking coffee, it was always grueling to push myself through the morning grogginess.

Hanging up our weapons after a lengthy session of training, I flopped onto the couch beside Mike as he loaded up the video game he'd been immersed in for the past few weeks. The loading screen dissolved to reveal his player, wrapped in black shrouds that hid everything about his identity aside from the scaly green tail jutting out the back, and clutching a dark metallic bow in his claws. The armored lizard was on a stone bridge in a rural village that bustled in the ominous shadow of a snow-capped mountain, nestled right into its base.

"Ugh, I forgot to save before the Frost Troll got me on the Seven Thousand Steps!" He groaned. "This game's so repetitive."

"Yet you keep starting new characters." I noted. "Have you even finished the main quests in any of them?"

"Not really…but only because it's so boring and it takes so long!" Despite this, Mike's character started up the mountain, skipping the shrines along the way and launching barrages of arrows at the wolves that stood in his path. The setting changed from autumnal to alpine as he passed the tree line, hunching behind a glacial snowcap to conceal his location as he attacked the furry white monster ahead from a distance. When it identified him and started charging, a quick visit to the menu replaced the bow and arrow with a shield and glinting war axe. As the troll drew his arm back to swipe, Mike mashed a button to thrust his shield forward, making the creature stumble before tapping furiously on the triggers to chop away with his axe. His health bar shrunk considerably after a couple swipes landed, but in seconds, the creature fell, and was harvested of its apparently valuable 'troll fat'.

"Booyakasha!" Mike cheered victoriously. Up the mountain he continued, until a great stone temple appeared toward the summit as he rounded a corner. Ominously, the whipping winds blew powdery gusts straight up the staircases, as if directing the player toward their objective. The colossal door creaked open as he clicked it, and the familiar blackness of the loading screen drifted into view. A faint buzz sounded from Mike's belt loop, and he fished his cellphone out, slightly concealing the screen from my view as he checked the message. "Oh. Oh…" He looked back up at me. "You can play if you wanna, Leo. Raph wants me to…move some furniture in his room. Don't be surprised if you can hear it through the floor." He winked, and turned on a dime to rocket out of the room, leaving me laughing in his wake.

I trudged through the dialogue with the temple's ancient-looking monks, only paying half attention as Don exited his lab across the room.

"So, I've been doing some research…"

"What else is new?" I smiled to him.

"…Specifically on a new way that psychotherapists are treating recurring nightmares. Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?"

"Yeah, vaguely. We watched Inception that one time, remember?"

"Well…it's not exactly the same thing, but pretty close. The premise is, if you're able to recognize that you're dreaming, then you can control the dream."

"That sounds far out. How would you be able to know you're in a dream?" He pulled his phone out and furiously thumbed a message.

"Like this." My own phone buzzed, and I checked it to see "Are you dreaming?" on the glowing screen under Don's name. "If you get in the habit of regularly questioning whether you're awake or asleep, it's bound to carry over into your dreams."

"I'm still confused, though." I admitted sheepishly.

"In a dream, you might think you're constrained by the same rules as reality. But it's all a product of your mind; you can become anything or go anywhere if you realize you're in control."

Throughout the day, Don's texts continued to barrage my phone every hour, on the dot. In our evening meditation, he led me through some mindfulness exercises that focused on the fine differences between the mind in its awakened and sleeping states. I was still skeptical about the whole idea, but typically when Don gets convinced something will work, there's little one can do to change his opinion. The texts didn't stop coming until, late in the night, he clicked off the lamp on his nightstand and rolled off of me, cuddling in close as I rested my head on his chest.

"You dreaming yet?" He asked humorously.

"Might be." I murmured, before drifting off.

Bitter winds whipped around me, rustling the shrouds of cloth and animal hide that wrapped me. My feet crunched as they trudged through the snow, leaving a trail of tracks behind me that stretched down the winding path and out of view. Ahead, the auspicious pewter temple stood in defiance of the alpine conditions, and up the steps I heaved. Unable to see any light through the narrow windows, I knocked on the monolithic door at the top of the stairs, and, hearing no response, let it groan open a crack so I could slide in. The inside was dimly lit by torches, but didn't match the appearance I'd expected as my eyes adjusted. Instead of Nordic runes and dragon motifs, everything was blank stone, bearing no decoration or emblem. The bearded hermits I'd anticipated seeing were, instead, bald-headed and staring menacingly back at me between their deerskin hoods and black shrouds. No one spoke. It all felt eerily familiar.

From the satchel at my waist, I felt a buzz. Underneath a few pink and green vials, I found my phone, which appeared so out of place in the medieval temple. On the screen, the expected "Are you dreaming?" appeared. As my eyes broke away from it, I was surrounded by white emptiness. The room and its inhabitants had disappeared. In a moment, the blank space was replaced by the warm candlelight and burning incense of a familiar den, paper door closed and silk scrolls still hanging on the wall.

"My son, your tea is getting cold. I've been expecting you."

* * *

Fluff Interlude Part 2 of 2 is now complete! Still working out the kinks of the next arc, so sorry in advance if it takes an extra day or two :)


	20. Mark of the Beast I: Barrage

MARK OF THE BEAST I: BARRAGE

"Today's guest is an independent scientist from Czech Republic who's using bacteria from pond scum to turn carbon dioxide into biofuel that can be used in almost any engine or power plant. Doctor Donat Hajek says his consumer-sized fuel processors can produce the equivalent of one gallon of gasoline a day, and are ready to hit the market within the year." The rosy-cheeked host led the audience in applause as a coarse-haired, burly man in a lab coat came onstage, bowing his head to the camera with a stern face as he adjusted his glasses. "Doctor Hajek, the world wants to know: what were your thoughts as you began to discover all this was possible?"

"Don's costume looks mega bogus, dude." Mike interrupted. "How's anyone falling for it?"

"You fell for his last one, shell-for brains. Remember the Foot lab in Two Bridges?" I reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but..." Mike stammered. "That was in the heat of a mission. This is a primetime talk show. Totally different, bro."

"I think Don's a little smarter than the average primetime TV viewer." Leo countered. "He wouldn't be up there unless he knew he'd pull it off."

"...Then we cannot justify using a finite resource to drive the global economy if there is a more sustainable alternative." Don explained in his dopey fake accent, sounding like an outdated Bond villain. "The end of the fossil fuel era of human history must end at some point, so why not now?"

"Why isn't he ever an American scientist? Or a Canadian scientist?" Mike groaned. "Always going for tacky theatrical stuff."

"Donnie's a major theatre buff." Leo answered. "Maybe the moustache is hiding it, but I can tell he's up there smiling like a kid in a candy shop."

"Yeah, it ain't like he gets too many chances to perform like this. No school plays in the sewers." I offered. "This is his first big shot to schmooze up to the general public."

"So, there's been a lot of comments from the scientific community about how you've worked outside of mainstream commercial or university labs to publish your findings." The host continued. "What's your response to anyone claiming you've been selfish or secretive with your work?"

"It's all with good reason, I assure you." Don's hologram maintained the same robotic, stoic face. "Is it really so unfathomable that one man could dream of changing the world alone? I always assumed that was something universal to human nature."

As Don proceeded with his bullshit philosophy, an audible 'thwack' and the sizzle of sparks came through the TV. He paused in his tracks, and the bushy eyebrows of his Eastern European disguise started to flicker, along with the lab coat and thick plastic glasses. Beneath the hologram, his turtle form started to show, as did the glint of a shuriken buried in the projector box clipped to his belt. On the edge of the screen, two shrouded figures jumped onto the stage like insects, robes clearly emblazoned with the menacing scarlet Foot Clan crest. The camera cut to static in a heartbeat, and all three of us were on our feet.

"Let's go." Leo growled before I got the chance to. We ran to the training room to grab our weapons and jump into our gear, barely even thinking to tie my laces as we rushed with urgency. Every movement was a blur; there was no conversation or consideration when a brother's life was on the line. The front door into the tunnels groaned mechanically to open, but as we were about to start our sprint through the sewers, five silhouettes appeared with a faint splash. The same sinister logo stared back at us, as I pulled a sai from my belt and started to whip a manriki around.

Without a moment's hesitation, the five ninja leaped into the lair, arranging in an arrowhead that surrounded the triangle of Mike, Leo, and me. My manriki rocketed through the air to wrap around one of their katana, and in the blink of an eye, it clanged to the floor as he tripped right into a swift kick from my heel. On cue, another rushed from behind me, and the steel of his sword clanged against my armored shoulder like a bell as he caught me off-guard. Not allowing him another swipe, I jetted my elbow back into his gut and flipped my sai around with my wrist to spear it back, where it sunk into what I could only assume was his upper torso before I shook him off without looking back and charged forward.

Mike was practically riding piggyback on the ninja facing him as he clobbered his skull with both nunchaku, but Leo looked deadlocked with the two attacking him simultaneously. Each of them sparred swiftly with one of Leo's arms as he struggled to divide his concentration between them both. One of the ninja was so concentrated on his swordplay, he didn't notice my tiger-like pounce and tackle until my hands were already wrapped around his hips. We bounced on the floor in a heap until I pinned the faceless black figure on the floor and wrapped the chain of my manriki around his neck, pulling it tight as I snapped my back upright and hurled him over my shoulder.

Two more ninja darted into the lair, but one got a taste of Mike's shuriken before he hit the ground, and a swift kick to the jaw from Leo sent the other soaring in a perfect arc back into the tunnel. Almost as quickly as they'd come, our enemies were out, in laughably typical Foot Clan fashion.

"Dammit, why'd they only send seven?" Mike lamented. "No fair Raph gets three and the rest of us only get two each."

"Save it for when we get to Donnie, jackass." I huffed, and into the endless dark of the sewers we raced.

* * *

Welcome to "Mark Of The Beast", an epic that'll focus on nature, ass-kicking, religion, family, and hopefully much more!


	21. Mark of the Beast II: Exodus

MARK OF THE BEAST II: EXODUS

Needless to say, I was frazzled. My heart was still racing when we crossed into Connecticut, though that may have been from my mistrust about Raph driving the Battle Shell on a crowded parkway at night. Mike had elected himself co-pilot and DJ, which normally left me wishing I'd brought earplugs, but there was something soothing in the repetitive chorus of " _We gon' be alright, we gon' be alright. Do you hear me? Do you feel me? We gon' be alright…"_ that I'd never known to come from hip-hop music before. Leo's foot tapped gently to the beat as he lied on the floor behind me, while I typed away at the screen in the side of the van.

"They got what they wanted." I sighed, dropping my head to the keyboard in angst. "All my equipment in the lab went offline. I don't think they'll be able to crack the encryption on my research, but they have all the prototypes and every last drop of the samples."

"Yeah, and the PS3 too." Mike moped. "Major bummer."

"They didn't get everything they wanted." Leo murmured. "The Foot won't rest until either we're dead, or Karai is."

"Maybe at one point, there was a chance she'd leave us alone for a while. I threw that out the window when I cashed my last paycheck. Now we're homeless…" I could feel a tear start to spill down my cheek. "…And it's my fault."

"C'mon, Donster." Mike soothed from the front, face aglow with the pale light of the MP3 player and changed the song. "You got out of getting beat up once today. No need for you to do it to yourself after all that." We listened in silence to the next song on the album, and I remember being entranced for a verse, feeling like revelation had been achieved as it ended with, " _I know how people work, I know the price of life; I'm knowin' how much it's worth. I know what I know, and I know it well not to ever forget, until I realized I didn't know shit, the day I came home._ " After all the trash-talk I'd given Raph and Mike about hip-hop over the years, I made a mental note to add Kendrick Lamar to the growing list of poets I'd set out to read.

For three hours we cruised, particular artist had an eerily through the plains and gentle hills of New England, each of us dozing off at some point as Raph and I switched seats. Finally, as the monotony of the left lane threatened to lull me to sleep, we turned onto a familiar dirt road, and miles down, again onto along gravel driveway. Against the country moon behind it, the outline of the farmhouse stood darkly. The tires crunched to a slow halt, and as I killed the engine, a light flicked on from the porch. In seconds, the screen door flew open, and a wild-eyed bearded figure appeared, clutching a tarnished shotgun in his hands.

As he squinted his eyes, examining our vehicle more closely, he set the gun down in the doorframe and scratched his chest hair through his unbuttoned flannel shirt.

"You guys are major assholes, you know that? Sending all our calls straight to voicemail, then showing up unannounced in the middle of the night? Geez, it's like you _want_ to give me a heart attack!"

"Yeah, well at least we ain't raggedy-ass Berkshire hillbillies." Raph chuckled, bumping his fist to Casey's before wrapping him in a hug. "What, you vacation up here for three months, and you've already gone native?"

"Had to some time, and it ain't a vacation no more. Ape and I decided we're gonna stay here until we can afford a bigger place in the city. The apartment's no place to raise a kid."

"What, you think a rickety old barn is better?" Mike asked. "Being a kid out here in the sticks must suck. Can't skateboard on gravel, yo."

"I'll have you know I've been fixing this place up all autumn. Gotta have it ready for planting in the spring." Casey answered with pride. "No point in dropping all that money to get the cows if the barn's gonna collapse on 'em."

"Shit, Case, you've gone full country bumpkin. Did we just interrupt banjo practice?" Raph smirked.

"Only thing you're interrupting was us watching the news, trying to find out if you motherfuckers were still alive." Casey snarled back, leading us into the house as he snatched the gun from the doorframe. "Babe, we've got company." He hollered into the living room before we entered. Wrapped in fleece blankets like a human burrito, snuggled into the couch with a pint of Ben and Jerry's in hand, April O'Neil laid eyes on me for the first time in months.

"Oh my god, you're okay!" She sighed with relief. I bent down to hug her on the couch, not wanting to make her stand. "Did you not get our calls?"

"I took the batteries out of all our phones on the drive here. Couldn't risk getting trailed." I explained.

"Well, expect about a hundred voicemails when you turn them back on." She scolded. "We watched the broadcast and everything. You gotta hear what they're saying about you." She turned up the volume.

"…With the government offering three hundred thousand dollars for the location of the aliens. In addition, a private trust, the Oroku Saki Memorial Foundation, has committed to using their satellite technology to aid law enforcement with their hunt." The channel turned to a steaming old pundit lecturing the guest on his show.

"…So isn't it clear the government's hiding how much they know about these creatures? This is what happens when Big Government is allowed to run places like Area 51 or Three Mile Island." Again, April changed the channel, and a portly man in military brass was poised sternly behind a podium.

"We don't know why sentient, non-human life decided to live among us now, or how many more are out there. But I promise you this: they will be found, and we're going to learn what they're doing here. No one can hide from the world."

* * *

For the curious, Mike's album is "To Pimp A Butterfly", and I featured snippets of "Alright" and "Momma", which I highly recommend to even non-rap fanatics.

Thanks for reading!


	22. Mark of the Beast III: Guardian

MARK OF THE BEAST III: GUARDIAN

The silence was as tense as a mousetrap. My brothers and I were poised around the phone, eagerly anticipating a call. For hours, we'd been in our stakeout in the living room, TV volume cranked down low just in case. Video footage of a massive, bipedal crocodile smacking NYPD aside with his tail and swimming off into the sewer replayed on the news, and I felt relieved to know Leatherhead was safe, at least for the moment. My feet tapped with unconscious nerves. I stared at the phone on the end table, and as if manifesting it with my eyes, ringing filled the room for a moment until Raph picked it up and hit the speakerphone button.

"Case?" he questioned.

"Noah Tyler Jones. Seven pounds, eleven ounces, twenty-three inches."

"It's a boy!" I cheered, and the room filled with our hoots and hollering.

"How's April holding up?" Leo asked.

"Took it like a champ. The doc says we'll be outta here tomorrow morning."

"The baby's healthy?" Don inquired. "No complications or anything?"

"Came out tough and already kicking, just like his old man." I could sense the paternal warmth in his voice. "There is one, uh, cosmetic thing, but nothing to worry about."

"What, he's got two heads or something?" I laughed.

"It's a surprise, alright? You guys are gonna flip when you see it." He teased, and we gave our well wishes as he hung up.

"Seven pounds seems light." I noted. "Think I've had burritos bigger than that."

"Those eleven ounces put it above average weight. Not everyone's born with a thirty-pound shell on their back." Don corrected. "Twenty-three inches is pretty tall, too."

"That explains why Ape was looking like Snorlax the past week." Raph chuckled. "Tough to fit all that baby in one small lady."

We crashed in the same places on the couches, falling asleep to the gentle drone and flicker of the TV. When daylight started to seep in between the blinds, we were startled awake by the crunching of truck tires up the driveway. In seconds, we leaped to our feet, crowding around the door as Casey stepped in, April in tow carrying a cocoon of soft white blankets.

"Boys…" she smiled up at us, looking tired but victorious. "Meet Noah Jones." Gently pulling back a corner of blanket, she revealed his grapefruit-sized wrinkled head, decorated with a few wisps of dark auburn hair atop his sleeping face."

"Little dude's a stud." I murmured in awe, as April gingerly took a seat on the couch.

"Gets it from my side of the family." Casey puffed his chest out, hands on his hips as he locked the door behind him.

"He's perfect in every way." April cooed, delicately pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "The doctor asked if we wanted to consider surgery on his hand, but…" She unwrapped the outer blanket a bit to unveil his tiny, curled left fist. "…No point in changing something beautiful, right?" I held my breath as I leaned in to look closer. Between his pointer and middle fingers was a bridge of pink skin reaching up to his last knuckle, as was another between his ring finger and pinky.

"Holy shit!" Raph exclaimed. "Kid's like a quarter turtle." He was right. Non-green hue aside, the little hand looked like a mirror image of my own.

"The doc says it's just webbing; all the bones and muscles are…" he stopped mid-sentence, head turning back to the screen door as he registered a noise from the street. Through the curtains, I saw six vans careening up the driveway, leaving a trail of dust in their wake. Screeching to a stop, their doors slammed open and an army of black-clothed figures burst out. Some of them clutched towering plastic shields emblazoned with 'SWAT' along the middle, and scattered among the armored cops were a handful of scarlet Foot crests. Casey rushed to snatch his shotgun from the dining room hutch.

"How the fuck did they find us?" Raph snarled. "Thought we weren't followed."

"The satellite." Don panicked. "They couldn't have cracked my computer…but the lair's full of our DNA. All they had to do was scrape the shower drain. Dammit…" He slammed his fist into the wall. "How'd I let this happen?"

"This is the Massachusetts State Police." A megaphone crackled through the window. Dozens of assault rifles were aimed menacingly at the windows. "You're under investigation for harboring unknown non-human life. Come out with your hands up."

"If it were just the Foot, I'd say run." Leo told Casey, putting a hand on the barrel to set the gun down. "But the cops won't hurt you three if they can't find any mutants." He turned to us. "We need to get out of here."

Without so much as goodbye, the four of us hurdled through the house and out the back door. Between the barn doors we slid, the animals paying us no mind. Raph started heaving a few bales of hay from the stack in the corner out of the way, revealing the green metal of the Battle Shell in its hiding spot.

"We can't take the Shell." Don panted. "They'd spot us." He put the hay bales back in their place, and we sprinted out the back, where the yard met the fringe of the untamed forest. We rushed in, paying the vibrant reds and yellows of the trees no mind as we ducked under branches and dodged saplings until the farmhouse was lost between the leaves behind us. Even then, we didn't stop, dashing madly through the woods until all that stood before us was the shimmering blue of the Connecticut River and the forest on the opposite side.

"Where now?" I gasped, head darting around to make sure our hunters weren't in sight.

"North." Leo pointed upstream. "We need to get out of town. Out of state, even. Anywhere but here."

Drawing in a deep breath, I shut my eyes tightly and jumped forward, being swallowed up by the cool water as I pushed against the lazy current and channeled my inner salmon. My own heartbeat and bubbles of my breath was all I could hear.

* * *

Cliffhangers for days!

Hope you guys enjoy MOTB so far! Please review to let me know :)


	23. Mark of the Beast IV: Frontier

MARK OF THE BEAST IV: FRONTIER

Under the all the bug bites and river muck, all I could feel was exhaustion. Every fiber of muscle in my body screamed out in agony as I dragged myself out of the reeds behind my brothers, flopping onto the riverbank like a gasping catfish. Mutant or not, we were still reptile enough to swim longer and faster than the average human, but far too out of practice to be anything but wasted after a whole day fighting the current. Other than momentarily surfacing to fill our lungs, this was our first time freely breathing the air in hours, and I savored it like every breath was a mouthful of caviar.

Up above, the abstract smattering of stars looked so unfamiliar to the tepid nighttime glow around the city. I could make out the shape of the galaxy, viewing whole constellations I'd never laid eyes on before.

"Are they gonna find us here, Don?" Mike panted.

"Eventually."

"Then we can't stop moving." Leo breathed, peeling himself off the ground. "Where is 'here', anyways?"

I sensed their eyes shift to me, but no answer came. With no technology and no knowledge of the area, I felt blind.

"All I know is, we passed that 'Welcome to Vermont' sign on the side of the road about an hour ago." Raph huffed. "Which puts us smack-dab in the middle of fucking nowhere." Turning my head slowly to take in the panorama, I saw he was right; no houses, streets, or any signs of habitation at all could be seen through the dense trees. This far upstream, the river practically narrowed into a creek barely deep enough to cover our shells, which meant we'd have to stick to dry land if we were to carry on.

Raph brushed a slimy strand of seaweed off his shoulder as he straightened his back with a groan.

"I don't think we're going anywhere tonight." Mike sighed, rolling onto his stomach and revealing a coat of pine needles stuck to his shell. "I can't even feel my toes."

"So, what, we're camping out here in the sticks?" Raph snapped back. "What do I look like to you, an Indian?"

"What, you've got reservations to a bed and breakfast out here? In the middle of peak leaf-peeping season?" Mike's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Lead the way, prima donna."

"We're not going anywhere near a road or a human until the Foot's been dealt with." Leo said curtly.

"What's your plan, then?" Raph steamed. "We're lost God knows where in the Green Mountains, hungry and tired as hell, with no food or beds around in the whole county, probably. I don't know about, you, but I haven't eaten since last night, and…"

"Shut the fuck up, Raph." Leo snorted a shot of river water out of his nostrils. "I don't have a plan. None of us have a plan. And none of us will live to make one if your bitching wakes up every bear and coyote in the forest." Raph grumbled under his breath, not meeting Leo's stern glare.

"Well, for now, let's plan on sleeping." Mike yawned from the ground. "Then we keep moving in the morning, so the Foot don't crash our little campout."

"Good luck getting any sleep with all these fucking creepy-crawlies around." Raph stomped on a spider that threatened to crawl up his toes.

"If it were Central America, I'd say a fire will keep them away." Leo remembered. "The bugs were way bigger down there, and poisonous, too. But we don't know how deep these woods are; any smoke or light could bring attention. Our next best bet is sleeping in the trees."

A grueling climb and several scrapes from branches later, I found myself in a notch between tree limbs, nervously hearing the wood creak and bend beneath my weight. Under the blanket of darkness, I could barely make out my brothers' silhouettes in the three trees next to my own. Rotating myself gingerly to find some semblance of comfort, the ability to fall asleep eluded me. Leo murmured from his perch a few yards away.

"Donnie…if the Foot could find us underground, and at the farmhouse…there's no where we can hide, is there?"

"Not while their eye's still in the sky. It's a NASA satellite; all we did was hack its data output. The only way to get into its data input is from a military computer, no doubt behind miles of barbed wire and cameras."

"If the Foot's really working with the government to track us down, an Army base is the last place I want to be. So where are we supposed to go?"

"Wherever you lead us."

"That's sweet, Don, but I don't even…" he held his breath as a muffled crunch came from leaves in the distance. Growing from practically nothing, it gradually sounded closer and closer.

"Two of them." Leo breathed almost inaudibly, ear turned to the source of the sound. "Don't move."

As he finished speaking, the noise stopped in its tracks, just short of where the forest canopy opened to let moonlight in. Clearly from nearby, I could make out a sniffing noise. My first thought was a bear, but did bears ever travel in groups of two? Maybe a mother and its cub. Did the gray wolf's range still reach into Vermont? In the roaring silence, my mind ran wild as I wondered what was coming toward us, and how we'd escape it. Leo didn't need to worry about me moving; my fear paralyzed me between the branches.

Out of the darkness, a sinewy twang resounded, and in a flash, I felt something sharp and fast bury itself in the branch supporting my back. The limb splintered where it was struck, and crashing down to the earth I went, caught too unaware to even attempt landing on my feet. I couldn't make out the form of my attackers in the shadows, but I saw three more arrows spinning through the leaves, knocking my brothers to the ground too. We struggled to hop upright as the leaves parted cautiously, one hulking human-sized silhouette and a gargantuan, demonic-looking horned one stepped into the fringe of visibility.

"They sure aren't turkeys, Steele." A thunderous voice murmured curiously.

"I can see 'em myself, Russ." A smaller voice hissed. "But what are they?"

* * *

Sorry for the (relatively) infrequent updates, I have some days off next week where I plan on marathon writing!


	24. Mark of the Beast V: Fauna

MARK OF THE BEAST V: FAUNA

"Stand back." My voice waivered as I swiftly drew my swords. "We don't mean any trouble."

"Well, you just woke up in it." The tenor chuckled. Into the moonlit clearing he stepped, first revealing a snout of wiry whiskers. The white light glinted off his one open eye like a feline slit of jade, standing out against the tiger-like graphite mottled fur of his face and appearing more akin to the snowy tufts at both crooks of his jaw. His muscles of his arm, like iron cables, were drawn as tight as the bowstring his onyx claws plucked back toward his shoulder.

"Let 'em be, Steele. Anything with a talkin' tongue probably has a family that'll come hunting for 'em." Approaching the center of the clearing, pushing us back into the shadows as a semicircle, he was followed by a monolith of a moose, standing nearly twice as tall as his accomplice on his hind legs. Over one colossal shoulder, he leaned a weathered axe, with a razor-sharp head as large as a dinner plate perched up next to his velvety, palm-like antlers. His other hand stroked curiously at the bushy brown fur sprouting from his chin.

"You ain't a predator, Russet. You see humans…" The fiery bobcat spat, licking his lips menacingly. "…I see dinner."

"Don't smell like humans though, bud. Step out into the light, eh?" The moose coaxed, stooping down and pressing a hand to lower the cat's arm. "We ain't gonna hurt you." Eyeing them nervously, I felt the trunk of a tree against my shell, stopping me from backing up any further, and had no choice but to sheathe my weapons and set a foot into the clearing. "Thought I caught a whiff of some turtle."

"Walkin' and talkin' and everything…" He finally loosened the hold on his bow, sliding a feathered arrow into the quiver on his back. "…Just like us." His claws retracted into his fingertips as he stretched his palm out midway to me. "Name's Steele."

"Leonardo." My hand clasped his, and in wonder, he regarded my foreign fingers as they wrapped around his.

"Call me Russ." The moose smiled from beside him, his gargantuan hand smothering mine in a firm shake. Over my shoulder, I saw my brothers approach cautiously behind me to introduce themselves. "So, what's a bale of turtles doin' napping up in our woods, huh?"

"We're on the run. Some old enemies are on our tails. We're trying to get somewhere the government won't find us."

"Well, you can't get there from here." Steele laughed. "Trust me, we've been lookin'. Only place in the world that's safe from humans is on the move."

"Don't get too many turtles 'round these parts this late in the year. What, came up from the lake bottom for some air?"

"We're not really the hibernating type." Don explained.

"Wouldn't have taken you for a regular type of turtle anyhow." Russet boomed, spinning his axe around dexterously to lean on the handle. "Pardon me for askin', but you four…you're mutants too, eh?"

"Too?" Raph interjected. "Figured the only place making ooze was in New York."

"Ooze?" Steele countered harshly. He turned to lock eyes with Russet. "The essence?"

"If we're thinkin' about the same thing, Steele and I don't know where the essence is from. Only that they were usin' it in the compound."

"What compound?" I asked.

"Secret lab in the Adirondacks, leftover from the Cold War." Steele spat. "Ten years ago, when the humans shut it down, they left us in cages to rot. We were the only two to escape."

"I'm sure you all have some likewise stories, but on account of the 'skeeters round the water here, we ought to get back to camp." The moose picked his axe back up over his shoulder. "Long trek ahead of us tomorrow, you know?"

The six of us trudged along the beaten path through the forest, in the direction of a faint campfire that appeared on the horizon as we continued north. The pair explained that they were travelling from their summer stomping grounds in Quebec, through the Appalachians to Georgia for the winter. Such a journey usually took four or five months one way, though they lingered the longest there in Vermont and New York, being so close to whatever abandoned complex they hailed from. Every year, they diverted from the straight path southwest to go back to the facility, ostensibly for supplies.

"Steele uses the barbed wire for snares and whatnot. I usually try to find tarps and blankets in the barracks." Steele explained. "The whole experience…it's a bit like visiting the Garden of Eden." He looked away. "And Hell, too."

They described how scientists used the mutagen and selectively bred mutants to sort for certain traits, like intelligence or strength. I was awestruck to hear that TCRI wasn't the only ones with their hands on such a potent chemical, but knowing they drove around the city with unsecured containers of it falling out the back, I figured it was only a matter of time before the government stuck their nose into such research.

"The compound got shut down a few weeks after we were born." Steele sharpened his claws on each other as he told his story. "Russ and I were the only ones in our litters with talkin' tongues and whatnot, so we were kept in outdoor pens instead of the cages inside. That's the only reason we could get out so easy."

"They reckoned one of us would eat the other, or clobber 'em, or something. Didn't count on us buddying up and breaking loose." Russet parted the fur on his forearm to reveal the ghost of a deep scar. "Fish and Game was after us for a year or two, rootin' through the Adirondacks just a couple steps behind us. Then we figured they were tracking us with the chips they'd put in when we were born."

"A little fancy claw work by yours' truly, and we've been free beasts ever since." Steele spoke solemnly. "Or as free as beasts can be in a man's world."

Finally, in a mossy gully upstream from where they stumbled upon us, we found their campsite. Pale birch bark was plastered around a frame of young saplings, giving them a relatively spacious wigwam. Russet plopped down onto a stump next to the crackling fire pit, and Steele snuck into their shelter momentarily before emerging with a worn leather pouch and a long wooden pipe, ornately carved with spirals and runes. As they packed the pipe with what looked like tobacco and shared it between them, we told them our story of mutating and growing up in the sewers, learning ninjitsu and taking on the Foot. They seemed curious, but simultaneously disappointed.

"Shame you brothers aren't living in your kingdom." The bobcat gestured to the trees enveloping us. "Humans kept you swimming in their filth, like they kept us holed up in their labs. Ain't you ever yearned to go home?"

"Depends where you consider home." I offered. "I've been surrounded by nature before, and my heart never stopped calling out for Manhattan both times."

"That's 'cause it's all you know, eh?" The moose chuckled. "I understand your bad blood with these Foot characters, but a mutant's calling in life is loads higher than that. The six of us, we're the only beasts with enough brains to stand up to humans. Someone's got to stick up for the rest of us."

"Have you seen what the humans are doing to us?" Steele snarled. "Hunters, loggers, farmers, bulldozers. Every trek to Georgia and back, the thinner the woods get, and the closer we come to being gunned down by some hairless ape."

"Humans are animals, in a scientific way." Russet continued. "But they're the only ones bent on killing everything else that moves and grows. All in the name of progress."

"Human technology never stops advancing, and every step of progress they make enables them to treat the planet better." Don countered. "Pretty soon, the oil platforms and coal mines are going to close for good."

"That means more factories for their new fuel, more trains when they stop using cars, and more junkyards too." Russet shook his head. "No amount of side-steppin' is gonna stop them going down the road they're on."

"And being as strong and smart as we are, it's our calling to turn 'em around and send 'em the way they came." A stream of wavering O's streamed from his whiskered muzzle.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mike scratched his head.

"Gettin' rid of technology and driving humans out of our kingdom. Don't you deserve to live in the sunlight?"

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Thanks for reading! Hope you guys like Russet and Steele (tackily named after their colors lol), I don't like writing OCs all that much but personally I think they make a cool duo.


	25. Mark of the Beast VI: Sojourn

MARK OF THE BEAST VI: SOJOURN

The next day started at the ass-crack of dawn, as I smelled sizzling seafood from the campfire outside. My brothers and I had stuffed ourselves onto the floor of their wigwam for the night, sleeping on scratchy hemp blankets over a dirt floor. Unfolding myself from our snoring heap, I parted the canvas flap over the door opening, and Steele's head snapped in my direction with speed unnatural for this early in the morning.

"Didn't know what to feed a mutant turtle for breakfast." He flipped the three shimmering fish in his worn skillet, herbs and drops of oil tumbling through the air. "I know some smaller ones are carnivores, so I caught a couple extra trout."

"We usually don't even think about breakfast for four or five more hours." I groaned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "But I appreciate it."

"Well, you're sure gonna need some sustenance for the day. We're packin' up camp and settin' for Somerset Reservoir." Removing the smoking pan from the fire, he replaced it with a cast-iron tea kettle. "At the very least, got to cross the New York state line by tomorrow." As he waited impatiently for the water to boil, he sharpened arrowheads against a shard of iron from within his quiver.

"You and Russ sure got some interesting lives." I noted offhandedly. "Like modern cavemen."

"It ain't that glamorous. Just followin' instinct, really." He pulled a spool of twine from his satchel and began fastening the sharp bits of flint to arrow shafts, biting the string to cut it. "You know, as mutants, you and I have got the best parts of both man and beast. All the smarts and ambition of a modern-day human, with the timeless instinct of a true animal. Maybe this is just spit-ballin', but I say it means somethin' special. Like, if men hadn't forfeited their instinct for comfort, they might be livin' akin to Russ and I. Makes me grateful for the life we've got."

"Why are you two so bent outta shape about humans?" I raised an eyebrow. "I mean, yeah, we're being chased by 'em too, but for most of life we'd just leave 'em alone and they'd do the same."

"That's 'cause you four ain't been hunted in the literal way. Even had some human friends, right? Well, look how their society repaid you. Chasin' you out here with us, where gettin' gunned down by a poacher would mean nothin' but making his day." He pointed with an arrowhead to the midsection of his thigh, where overlapping the his dark gray mottles, I noticed a band of scarlet in a pattern not unlike knotted barbed wire. Another circled his shoulder blade, two details I hadn't noticed in the dim light the night before. "Y'know how, once a bone's been broken, they say it won't ever break there again? Well, Russ and I have had our fair share of brushes with death, and every time, we mark it like so, to show we can't be broken there no more. Give it another ten years, and we'll be covered in 'em, makin' us either dead or unstoppable."

"That's…uh, some heavy shit." I murmured. The way the bobcat spoke sounded vaguely cultish, but every word bore conviction.

"I don't blame you for thinking me a bit touched." He laughed. "Comes from being out here just the two of us for so long, eh? When there's no society to keep the human parts of our minds occupied, they turn inward." He turned to me, eyes full of secrets. "You wouldn't happen to be familiar with the concept of ' _gnosis_ ', would you?"

"No, but…" My gaze turned to the opening of the hut, where Don stretched both arms up as he yawned. "…I know someone who probably is."

"You guys have tea all the way out here?" He gestured to the whistling pot in the embers. "I didn't think _Camellia_ grew this far north."

"Ain't proper tea." Steele lined up small clay cups, and began pouring the fragrant green-brown liquid in. "Saint John's wort, canary grass, purple coneflower, and spearmint. Usually put in a bit of honey or syrup, dependin' on the season." He held the steaming mug out to Donnie, who eyed it suspiciously.

"That sounds…hallucinogenic. You drink this stuff every day?"

"Sure, caused a bit of a rush when I started brewin' it, but your mind gets used to it." His eyes narrowed knowingly. "That's _gnosis_."

"That's mania, is what it is." Don looked visibly startled.

"Put a sock in it, Don." I chuckled, snatching the cup from Steele's hand. "Forgive my brother. He's just used to being the only one who knows what he's talking about."

"Well, there's a lot your brother could stand to keep an open mind about. Stuff you can't learn in a book or a lab." At that, Don appeared steamed, and turned to stomp back into the wigwam. "Everything we put into our bodies out here is straight from the same interconnected nature that we're made of. Even though you and I both wouldn't be here if it weren't for man, we're the pinnacle of the natural world. Happenstance leading to nature protecting itself." I took a sip of the bitter liquid, suppressing a grimace before the honey cut through the flavor and made it palatable.

"Sure tastes like nature." I winced at the aftertaste.

"The natives here have used brews like this for millennia, you know. Between that, and smoking injun tobacco, it's no wonder those folks had such traditions of future-seers and witch doctors. They could see things that the eyes don't naturally reckon."

"How'd you learn all this shit about history and philosophy?" I inquired. "Seems like you're pretty cut off from any education out here."

"Ain't quite the type to watch the news or nothin'." He threw his whole mug back, licking his lips to savor the brew. "But we've got a few cabins we lodge up at on our route. All abandoned by humans, some with books and whatnot in 'em. I ain't one to read nothin' but maps, though Russ's enough of a bookworm for the both of us. One of our ol' stomps is just three days' trek out from here; it's where we stop before we get to the compound. Which reminds me…did you boys have a plan as to where you're going? 'Cause you're more than welcome to tag along."

"I don't know what the others were thinking. But I guess there's nowhere better to go than somewhere new." I thought.

"I figure we're six of the only seven mutants, countin' your gator friend, here on the East Coast. Tell me that ain't the universe bringing us together for something." He grinned sagely.

My brothers all emerged from the tent, and Russet trudged out from the woods with a huge pot full of moss and ferns as we set about de-boning and slicing the fish. As he sat down with us at the fire, I noticed the same tattooed markings that Steele bore on his neck, knee, and bicep. The scarlet nearly blended with the dark brown of his fur, but to a trained eye, they were visible. I wondered just how severe their injuries had been that they felt compelled to mark them permanently.

Through breakfast, my stomach was pretty soured by the foul-tasting tea, so while I wasn't eating, I started to pick up on the dynamics between the wily bobcat and the more level-headed moose. Everything Steele spoke about, he rambled with wordy energy like a politician, while it was tough to coax more than a handful of words from Russet at a time, even after his mug of tea perked him up some. The two of them both talked with a backwater Northern accent, but Russet's seemed far stronger, if only from him speaking so slowly in his booming bass. Despite that, the moose came off as the brains of the pair, with the cat doing ninety percent of the talking.

Ever since Steele's rebuff when he woke up, Don seemed wary of the both of them, though he and Russet shared a lot of knowledge about biology and other nerd bullshit. Leo's eyes lit up when he caught Russet meditating silently in a fern patch after breakfast, and joined him. After a cup of tea (which Don insisted Leo stayed away from) Mike's energy seemed as boundless as Steele's, and the two chatted endlessly while we took down the wigwam and helped pack their bags.

It couldn't have been later than nine AM when we set out northbound, Steele's nose buried in a map at the front of the pack while Russet hauled his axe and heavy tent poles across his back behind us. Sandwiched between them, we struggled to keep up with their fleet pace after the first few hours, as they walked up mountains like the ground was still flat. Our path wound us through the wilderness of the Green Mountains, as far away from towns and roads as we could possibly travel.

Maybe it was just the tea, but the vividness I saw every color with made me appreciate just how alien the carved earth looked when its trees were ablaze with autumn. Every craggy ridge and marshy bog nearly took my breath away. Steele's words from the night before started to sink in; as my feet carried me through paradise, I began to consider how animals were designed to live, and how the world out there held a beauty unlike anything in the city. It gave me a vague feeling of being right at home.

My contemplative state lasted until we climbed off the back face of Mount Snow, where the reservoir we'd set as our destination was splayed out before us as the sun danced closer to the western horizon. Following the trickle of a mountain brook rather than an actual trail, our path was crossed by shrubs and saplings more often than not. Thinking nothing of where I stepped, my foot planted between a mossy rock and a thicket of grass, and as I lifted it forward, a red-hot pain erupted in a ring around my ankle. I screamed out, falling to my knees and jerking it only to increase the intensity. In a flash, the others flocked to me in a circle.

"Beaver snare." Steele noted, bending down with claws unsheathed as he gripped around the cut with both hands. I looked over my shoulder to see a cascade of blood pouring from the incision, a perfect circle of razor wire cutting through my ankle like cheese. "Stay still, eh?" He expertly slid a claw under the cable, which drew tighter with every jostling movement I made, until it snapped off and fell to the ground. His free hand fished around in the satchel at his waist until it revealed a thumb-sized glass vial full of murky green liquid.

"You're not honestly pouring that muck on there, are you?" Don gasped.

"It's tincture of willow bark and thyme." Russet drawled. "Helps soothe the pain of the alcohol disinfectin' the wound." I winced at the sting as he poured it on, but in a second, it was comparatively numb.

"And to think I called it a waste of good moonshine." Steele laughed as he rubbed the salve into the gash, totally coating the area. "Watch your step from here on out, huh?"

My head was starting to feel light, either from the loss of blood or the grave panic my hazy mind had entered. Russet yanked a fistful of dry grass from the ground beside me, striking his axe blade to the flint on his belt until the weeds caught ablaze. Steele bent my knee to raise the wounded ankle, making the blood flow all but stop, and I bit my lip to contain an anguished cry as the salve caught fire and flashed momentarily, leaving my skin sizzling.

"All good and cauterized." Russet observed. "Only thing worse than walkin' on a slashed leg is walkin' on an infected one. 'Cause let it rot, and real quick, you got no leg at all." I shuddered at the imagery.

"Don't fret, bud." A bloody paw clasped my shoulder reassuringly. Doesn't look like it nicked any more than your scales and some blood vessels." Again he doused the wound in salve, and pulled a strip of gauze from his pouch to wrap my ankle in a tight cuff. "Just keep your weight off it for a spell." Russet handed me one of the smaller tent poles, and I cringed a bit as I leaned on the stick to stand upright. Mike grabbed the bag I'd been carrying, lightening my load so I could cautiously limp down the mountainside.

"You sure you're alright, bro?" Mike's watery eyes met mine.

"Think I'll be fine." I muttered. "Just a scratch."

"What you really need is more tea." Russet smiled. "Takes your mind off your body for a while."

Sure enough, while Steele and my brothers gathered birch bark for the wigwam as the sky began to darken, the moose and I sat by the budding campfire overlooking the reservoir, waiting for the weathered kettle to steam over.

"It's a butter of chamomile and marigold." He explained as he thumbed a coating of amber paste over my now-healing gash. "I know the one in purple don't trust my medicine, but it's all tried and true. Not like I'm pickin' random flowers and rubbin' on a cut to see what'll happen. All these cures have been used far longer than humans have practiced science."

"No complaints on my end." I sighed. "Stuff hurts less than peroxide, even."

The others returned with heaps of white bark sheets, and a few more flexible poles to make a wider hut. I helped as best I could on a bum foot, holding it together in the middle and lashing them together with twine as the walls went up around me. While the five of us worked to raise the structure, Steele was perched in a tree nearby, one eye baring down the shaft of his arrow. Against the purple and orange backdrop of sunset, his feline sight caught motion on the wind, and in a flurry, three ducks fell from the V crossing the sky. We watched in morbid curiosity as he bled the birds into the boiling pot of herbs and roots, before finding a flat stone on which to gut them and dig out the meat inside. Despite the gruesome scene of preparation, the soup was hearty with the taste meadow onions and wild rice.

From a long day of hiking, there was nothing our bodies craved more than a belly full of food and a restful sleep. Within an hour or two of tossing and turning on the floor, I regretted the second helping of tea I'd taken with dinner. Its effect was a strange, wandering euphoria that changed my perception, but lying inside the wigwam with my eyes closed, all I could sense was the dressings on my ankle getting itchy. Giving up on falling in and out of slumber, I gingerly stepped out of the hut, and down the ridge to the shore of the lake where I could wash my wound and get some energy out.

Leaving the snoring pile of turtles behind me, I became aware of laughter up ahead. The moonlight painted an otherworldly scene, the trees all vibrating as a gentle breeze rolled through them. Everything was bleached in an eerie white glow, the world feeling smaller and smaller beneath my feet as I dragged my lame foot down toward the two silhouettes at the sitting waist-deep in the water. I clung to the shadows, making out the figure of Russet's antlers and hoping they wouldn't notice me approaching.

Steele took a swig of the clear liquid in the canteen, passing it back to Russet as he traded for the long wooden pipe, with fingers of fragrant smoke dancing off its bowl.

"No chance, bud." The bobcat wiped a mirthful tear from his eye, speaking with a bit of a slur. "The red one and the blue one have gotta be shackin' up."

"First day you meet someone new and you're already makin' these crazy assumptions." He chuckled, pouring the canteen straight down his throat. "Ain't you seen the way they all look at each other? They're all so close knit, I'd say you sayin' one's beddin' the other don't mean nothin'."

"Spoil-sport, always steppin' on my ideas." Steele pouted dramatically. "Never let me have any fun."

"You take that back." The moose boomed, turning his head to inch his lips toward the cat's. They froze in place, though, as their eyes registered me listening, hunched over in the shadows nearby.

"A spectator, huh?" Steele observed, gesturing to come closer. "We'd have offered for you to celebrate with us, but you four seemed dog tired."

"Celebrate what?"

"Findin' more beasts like us." Russet took another long slurp from the canteen, potent moonshine on his breath. "Can't rightly drink like this any ol' night. Us finding each other means something special." He passed the leather bottle my way, and with a curious sniff, I choked back a gulp of it.

"Ah…Been too long." I smiled, savoring the burn in my throat.

"We stock back up on moonshine when we get to the cabin in a couple days. Figure there's no harm in finishin' what we got tonight."

The three of us polished off the bottle, lounging there in the brisk water. Shooting the breeze with me, they didn't seem so caught up in their spiels about nature or the universe or that usual bullshit. It relaxed me to hear their stories, the freedom of living under an open sky opening my mind to how constrictive the sewers were. These two were timeless; like cowboys in the old West and ancient Greek mariners on an odyssey wrapped into one. It brought me back to my childhood, daydreaming of being a knight or samurai, living life on the edge and by my own rules.

When the bottle ran dry and the mosquitos became unbearable, we moved back to the fire pit, sharing the tobacco pipe between us. The memories of our conversations were a blur, but after a bit of persuading, I remember Russ heating up a long iron needle in the fire, and producing a bottle of vibrant scarlet pigment. When I retired to the wigwam to crash for the night, a fresh band of scarlet chains were inked around my ankle, under another coat of salve and fresh gauze. I don't know how I ever pictured getting my first tattoo, but this defied expectation.

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Beastly long chapter, twice as big as the last one!

Thanks for reading, and stay tuned!


	26. Mark of the Beast VII: Inferno

Thanks for sticking with me through "Mark of the Beast"! Horse of a chapter ahead, and just a warning: the chapter here gets pretty graphically violent. Not for the faint at heart!

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MARK OF THE BEAST VII: INFERNO

Three days never seemed to stretch for so long. At the first light of dawn, we ate, meditated, and packed up camp before wandering ten or twelve hours through the woods until twilight. As time passed, we left the marshy swamps and steep rock faces behind, and began crossing roads and highways in the still of the night, when headlights wouldn't find us. The first day, we crossed the Batten Kill River, which Donnie said was where the Hudson started. It was mega deep, thinking how the pine trees loomed like skyscrapers along its banks, and what the whole river would look like if the last four hundred years of human history hadn't happened. The critters' philosophy was starting to rub off on all of us, even Don.

Steele let me fool around with his bow when he wasn't using it, and after bagging my first rabbit, I was hooked on hunting. Archery had never been more than an occasional lesson under Master Splinter, but the bobcat dude told me I had a natural gift for it. After we crossed over into New York, the forest started to thin in places into pastures and farmland, and late at night, we slinked off from the rest of the pack and nabbed a whole Angus bull from almost a hundred yards away. Steele and I could barely drag it out of the pasture before other bulls came charging after us. After living for two decades off dumpster-diving and delivery pizza, I was amazed how much food the land had to offer to anyone with eyes and an arrow.

As we hauled our kill up to their hidden cabin by Lake George, we heard repeated thwacking and a thundering crash resounding through the woods. Just beyond the edge of the cabin's yard, Russet had felled a great pine tree, and was hacking it lengthwise into quarters, while Don used a funnel to harvest the resin from the center of the trunk into a tin cup.

"Your brother's staff got some nasty rot while you were swimmin'." He drawled, etching a fixed length into the trunk before splitting it on the mark. "So his new one's gonna be slathered with pine pitch, just in case you plan on spendin' another day underwater."

"We still gotta cross Lake George, right?" I gestured downhill to the great, snakelike sea completely wrapped by dense forest. "Hopefully it doesn't take all day. We don't exactly have gills."

"There's a canoe we keep stashed down by the shore." Russet panted between chops, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Assumin' rustlers didn't get to it. Then it's only fifteen miles or so til Pharaoh Lake."

The hideaway we'd be spending the night at was the first place the two critters had lived after escaping the horror movie that they'd made the Pharaoh Lake compound sound like. For a week or two every year, they came back to the closest thing they had to a permanent home, and they spoke of it like it was the Sistine Chapel, not an eight-by-ten foot log hut with an outhouse. The inside was dusty with disuse, but it still felt almost like it was human-owned. The waist-high bookshelf was packed with worn spines reading titles like ' _Tao Te Ching'_ and ' _Unto This Last_ ', half-melted candles were littered on tables and counters around the house, and an antique radio on the mantle. Compared to their wigwam, at least, it felt like a hotel.

From the moment Raph and I sat on the front porch, and he showed me the tattoo he'd been hiding under the bandages on his ankle, I'd began to accept we'd be rolling with Russ and Steele for a while. It dawned on me by our third day with them that I couldn't think of any way to return to our old life. With the crackling AM radio describing how the government and Foot were patrolling around the city's sewers with assault rifles and attack dogs, and hysteria about aliens and mutants spreading like wildfire across the planet, it felt like the woods were the only place we were safe.

Over the couple days we posted up at the cabin, the four of us and the critters became fast friends. Leo took it upon himself to train Russ and Steele in some rudimentary ninjitsu, and more than once I witnessed the moose throwing his axe around like a hefty naginata to spar with Leo, while Raph directed Steele through the motions of open-claw boxing. Having found oil and spices in the neglected cabinet in the kitchen-corner of the cabin, I made us a banquet of fresh steak and cattails the night before we left, the plants being the lake's version of asparagus or corn cobs. The romantic rush of living off the land and self-sustaining like real beasts distracted me from ever missing my cell phone or video games.

After Leo and Don went to bed, Raph and the critters and I enjoyed a long smoke and a strong drink on the porch, hearing the tales of their travels.

"Woods keep gettin' thinner and thinner 'round here. Just wait 'til we're in the Great Smoky Mountains." Two streams of smoke rocketed out of Russ' snout. "Steamin' green forests as far as the eye can see."

"Yeah, but the hillbilly types down there ain't content with road-kill for dinner." Steele pointed a claw to the curve of his quadriceps, where one of his tattoos covered up a toughened scar. "Four years back, a twelve-gauge slug nicked me when we were trekkin' through West Virginia."

"Had to carry him on my back all the way to Georgia." Russ chuckled. "That winter's the only time I've ever hunted for meat."

"Not true." The bobcat grabbed his crotch with a lewd grin. "You've been hunting for meat practically every other day."

After a long, restful night's sleep, we packed up countless knapsacks with heavy furs, grains, and other winter supplies we'd need in Georgia. Down at the shore, a tired-looking canoe was lashed to a stump by the water, and by morning light we crossed Lake George, water nearly up to the rim from the weight of all our gear. Off into the untamed wild we trekked, darting across only two roads over nearly fifteen miles. Pharaoh Lake was buried deep in what most people knew as a state park, mainly underground and cast far from any roads or trails. The final leg of our journey to 'the complex' held the hilliest terrain, bringing us straight over rocky hills and down through streams and bogs until, nestled deep into a cleft of the mountain by the namesake lake, we could make out a menacing fence topped with rusted barbed wire.

The critters led us to a hole in the fence, where the chain links had corroded away, and we dipped through, passing the weathered sign reading 'Pharaoh Lake Joint Military Compound – No Trespassers'. Surrounded by only the sounds of birds in the trees and the crunching of leaves underfoot, the whole scene felt ominous. Everything within the fence seemed eerily still, as the forest took back the land from humans and sent trees sprouting up through guard towers. Russ had been right; it gave me the impression we were walking through a graveyard.

Wordlessly, we stopped as Steele sniffed and curled his nose up.

"Smoke." He muttered, and our eyes shot to the treetops, where sure enough, a dark haze was creeping into visibility against the white backdrop of sunlit clouds.

"Ain't had rain in weeks." Russ gasped. Leaving a cloud of dust in our wake, we started sprinting downhill toward the lake, but before we could cross back through the fence, the shrubs around our path rustled to change shape in a semicircle. Shaking the moss and branches off their granite-like armor, a couple dozen soldiers gripped their rifles and began to stomp in our direction like animated stone statues. We skidded to a stop and turned on our heels, in a mad chase uphill as fast as our backpack-saddled bodies could carry us. Where the mountain started to flatten into a tabletop, we found a sun-bleached hangar overlooking a crackled runway, its doors barely secured by rusty chains and padlocks. While Russet hastily chinked away at the loops of chains with his axe, I turned to see a ring of blazing trees spitting smoke into the sky, stretching around the mountain as far as the eye could see. Only a few hundred yards away, fire closed in from both sides around the path we'd followed like heavy curtains splashing shut.

"They're trying to smoke us out!" I bellowed out to the others.

"Cooking their own soldiers?" Raph snarled. "That's low, even for them."

"Unless…" Don muttered, and from the path of fire that crept closer, the soldiers marched through, unscathed by the inferno around them as they moved at the same trudging pace. "The stone! Karai finished her research on Winters and his generals!" The moose wedged his body under the hangar door and heaved upward with his back, audibly snapping the locks on the inside until it burst fully open.

We darted inside, and Steele slammed the door shut behind us as Russet wedged his axe handle through the tracks of the door to secure it. Ahead, the hangar's lone inhabitant was a slate-grey behemoth of a jet, two cannon-like engines perched on its tailfin looking down at us like dark, menacing eyes.

"An A-10 Warthog…" Don ran to its nose, caressing the cool metal. "With a thirty millimeter anti-tank gun."

"Happen to know how to turn it on?" Russ asked, eying the drums of jet fuel in the back of the building. "'Cause I think I got a plan."

In a minute, my brothers and I were perched high up in the scaffolding, Don toward the center and the rest of us right over the door. With the force of a car wreck, the first rocky punch landed on the hangar door. Russ looked back from the cockpit, to see Don flash him a thumbs-up, before reaching around the bobcat on his lap to flick on all the switches, and attempting to latch the safety belt of the plane's lone seat around the both of them. I clapped my hands over my ears as the engines came alive with a roar. The door was bulging with dents, and the force of the engines started to whip air ferociously past our heads. When the first crack of red light penetrated the door, Steele squeezed the trigger, and the gun began to spin in the plane's nose.

Just as two stone hands burst through the crack and ripped it apart with superhuman strength, bursts of light and smoke erupted from each of its seven barrels in quick succession. The whirring hum of bullets firing made my teeth rattle, and I looked on as the first soldier's armor chipped and shattered with each bullet's impact. It revealed his flesh underneath, which was nearly vaporized as the armor-piercing rounds ripped through him and sent him stumbling backward while his comrades opened fire on the plane. Jostling the yoke from side to side, Russ was able to swing the nose of the plane back and forth as it crept toward the door. Soldier after soldier fell, even before the wings cleared the hangar door and herded those still standing down the runway. As smoke began to sputter from the bullet-riddled engines, Russ flicked one final switch on the control panel, and the two critters soared as the ejector seat propelled them fleetly out of view.

Six of the rock-soldiers marched into the hangar cautiously from the sides, and Leo screamed fiercely as he leapt from the scaffolding, drawing his swords like an eagle. The heel of his foot landed on a soldier's outstretched wrist, knocking the gun to the floor as Leo landed gracefully. As the other five turned in their sluggish way to fight off Leo, Raph and I jumped down in attack mode. Knowing I wasn't strong enough to crack a rock, my only goal was to get the weapons out of their hands. Wrapping my nunchaku around the statue dude's wrist and forcing it to the ground, I pinned between his glove and his arm plate, squeezing like a nutcracker, and hooked a kick to where his abdomen plate met his codpiece. His gun dropped and rolled across my shoulders, as I caught it and stepped back to squeeze the trigger. Arms jerking from the recoil, I emptied the whole clip on the bastard. He staggered forward, bullets ricocheting off him like spitballs.

My finger only left the trigger when the last shell plinked to the ground, and the last gun had been snatched from their hands. They had pushed us to the center of the room, where the three of us lingered as they stomped nearer to close us in. Allowing them within inches of me, I rocketed into the air to flip over their heads just in time. Don let a barrel of jet fuel fall from the rafters, landing right in the middle of the circle to splatter all six soldiers. Like asphalt splashed with gasoline, their rocky shells began to sizzle and crumble from the head downward. Like bugs molting their skin, the whole exoskeleton peeled off of them in pebbly chunks. The one in front reached their hands up to peel the slick crust off their face, and I squinted to make out the face underneath as the others retreated outside.

"Karai?" Leo asked curiously, and she let a shuriken fly up to make Donnie dodge it, sending him hurling to the floor to land on his feet as she followed her soldiers out. The first to make it to the runway looked up, as if he registered a faint sound, but was stopped in his place as an arrowhead burst through the back of his neck. Riding Russ' shoulders like a kid on piggyback, Steele sent a hail of arrows down as they parachuted back to earth. Already maxing out the parachute's weight limit, their speed of their descent raced faster as a sidewinding shuriken sliced each of the cables linking Russ' backpack to the canopy. It billowed off like a sheet in the wind, and eyes wide with panic, Steele released his hold on Russ' upper body and landed in a roll, standing up with a groan from the tough impact. Russet, on the other hand, spent the last few moments of their fall like a lead ragdoll, unable to find his balance before he crumpled to the earth right beside the plane knees-first.

Watching the whole scene unfold, Steele rushed toward his partner with inhuman swiftness. He gripped the moose's limp body by the shoulders, shaking it with tender vigor as the soldiers closed in on him. Head peering up to meet their gaze with teary eyes and quivering lips, he cast his bow and quiver to the ground and bolted forward, arms bounding on the ground and teeth baring as if he were feral. He pounced onto the nearest soldier before there was time to react, sinking his claws into the neck and pushing himself off as streams of blood poured like spigots. Like a furry bolt of lightning, he leapt to the next soldier headfirst, sinking his teeth into their throat as the force of his paws forced them to the ground. We rushed toward him to intervene, but from on top of his prey, he growled at us, and out of fright I took a step back. He jerked his head from side to side like a starving scavenger ripping the throat of its prey out, but Karai unearthed a katana from under the remnants of her armor and swung dangerously close to his head.

Steele peeled himself off the body and rolled backward from the swing, batting his claws at her torso as he skidded to a landing. The reach of her sword stretched longer than his arms, and in a lopsided dance they inched closer to the plane with every dodge and stab. Ducking back in a deep fake, the cat snatched up Russ' axe and swung it from side to side, forcing the ring of soldiers that pinned him behind the plane's wing to falter back. Karai stepped forward as he struggled to recover the hefty axe, grazing his midsection laterally with the tip of her sword.

Snarling in anguish, he brandished the axe over his shoulder and bulged his muscles to hurl it forward. It lodged in Karai's upper arm with an audible thwack, and she dropped her sword with a shriek. Rather than lunging at his vulnerable opponent, Steele broke the flint shard off its cord on Russet's belt, and scraped it on the hull of the jet like nails on a chalkboard. Right beside him, jet fuel trickled out of the fuselage where bullets must have hit the gas tank. The crackle of sparks was the last thing we could see before the shimmering fumes in the air roared as they caught ablaze and sent shrapnel flying.

We covered our eyes and ducked our heads where they wouldn't be hit by the shards of the exploding plane, and were a heartbeat away from rushing back to the hangar, when a body thudded to the ground at our feet. Unconscious and losing blood rapidly from the gash in her deltoid, we hesitated for a moment, before Leo grabbed her by the leg and dragged her toward the building as the air heated up around us and the wildfire inched ever closer. Running as far back as the hangar stretched, we could feel the metal walls beginning to warm up and make the air inside sweaty and smoky. Surrounded and pinned in an oven, three of us shared a look of hopelessness as Leo tore a strip of fabric off Karai's singed clothes to bandage her wound. Her eyelids fluttered open.

"Turtles…" she croaked, not fully with us.

"Listen, Karai." Leo barked. "Whether you make it or not…whether any of us make it or not, this is the last time you're seeing us ever again. Understand?" Just as quickly as she'd woken up, her eyes rolled back and blinked shut. Beads of sweat started trickling down my brow, and I jumped back from the wall as it started to singe my hand when I touched it. Boiling over with frustration, Raph shouted ferociously as he buried a flurry of fists in the stack of wooden crates beside us. Splintering apart after a few moments, he panted and took a step back. Behind the boxes, a well-rusted door marked the wall.

Leo picked Karai's limp body off the floor and slung her over his shoulder as Raph hooked his sai in the door's frame, prying it open without touching the sizzling metal. A dusty stairwell, filled with cobwebs, led down into darkness, and a gust of cool, stale air rushed past us. With no other options, we filed one by one into the black abyss and slammed the door shut behind us.


	27. Mark of the Beast VIII: Broadcast

MARK OF THE BEAST VII: BROADCAST

"Five…four…three…" I mouthed 'two' and one' silently to my brothers, before clicking the button on screen, waiting a moment as the decade-old hardware whirred furiously under the desk and the little green LED of the digital camera flicked on across the room. The screen showed a somewhat grainy, low-resolution Leo staring straight into the lens before the dimly-lit laboratory background, with myself leaning over the keyboard on the side of the screen and the other two seated between us.

"Hello." Leo spoke calmly to the camera. "My name is Hamato Leonardo, and these are my brothers. We're not aliens, or monsters, or anything else you might have been told is out to harm mankind. We're turtles, born, mutated, and raised in New York City by another mutant. A couple weeks ago, the world found out about our existence, and we've been hunted down by armed soldiers and criminal organizations alike, having committed no crime and been offered no trial."

"Our pursuers found us here in the Adirondacks, harassing our human allies, killing our mutant friends, and starting a wildfire along the way. They failed to take us down, though, and now we have their leader: Oroku Karai, heir of the Oroku Saki Memorial Foundation and leader of the international criminal syndicate, the Foot Clan. Now that the running is over, we're not bringing any harm to Karai, but she won't be surrendered to the proper authorities until we've been guaranteed free exit back to our home and this mutant witch-hunt is put to rest."

"I can't blame you for wanting to learn more about us, but under no circumstances will we be made into government science experiments for the sake of curiosity. We've been fighting crime in the city for the better part of a decade now, and my brother Donatello has presented you an invention that, his disguise aside, is an original and world-changing device. Anyone who cares about mankind enough to fight for them and make their world a better place doesn't deserve dissection; at the very least, they deserve their rights and their privacy. We'll tell you about who we are, what we've been through, and everything, but you'll only learn what you want if we can talk on our own terms."

"Our father taught us to protect humans, but warned us that we were too different to every be accepted by them. Our friends, now passed, told us that mutants were superior to humans and wanted to bring down the society that created them and shunned them. Now, we have no choice but to hope the world can prove both of them wrong, can prove that you're decent and we can coexist peacefully, all humans and all mutants. Until then, we'll be waiting."

Seeing he wrapped his speech up, I clicked the stop button onscreen. Behind me, Mike started a slow clap with an expectant look on his face, only to be slapped on the back of the head by Raph. Leo turned with a satisfied grin.

"Let's go." He uttered, scooping up Russet and Steele's bags we'd saved from the hangar. "Don, send it quick. We don't know how long we have until more soldiers come."

"We don't even know if the fire's been put out yet." The video attachment loaded into my email, and swiftly I typed the addresses of April, Casey, and press contacts at the New York Times and the Guardian before hitting 'send'. "Just hold on a minute. I think this Air Force tech might have access to NASA's databases."

"Now ain't the time for rocket science, brainiac." Raph grumbled.

"The world has our message now. But it's time to show them we mean business, too." I opened up a new window and began weaving some masterful code. In under ten minutes (which would have been even less if the computers weren't pre-2005), the screen revealed the satellite map, familiarly calibrated to show the locations of mutant DNA similar to our own. Opening the text box for what molecular sequence it was gauged for, I mashed my fist across the keyboard, and copy-pasted thousands of characters' worth of gibberish. Submitting the nonsense, the colored shades cast across the map began to scramble around and blink, followed by the map turning blank as the words "Geotracking Offline – Lens Damage". Content, I closed all the windows and spun the computer chair around.

Pacing to the AV cart where Karai had been lain out for the past few hours, I inspected the wire stitches I'd put in and was happy to see the healing had already started. I used the salve leftover in Steele's luggage and burned off the tincture just like Russ had done for Raph. His axe had just narrowly missed her axillary artery, but deeply nicked her clavicle and scapula bones. The stitches would stop her from bleeding out any further, but she'd need medical attention if the bone and nerve were to heal properly.

The military base was a tangled mass of tunnels underground, where the surface was marked only by storage buildings and airstrips. From within a laboratory room, I'd found bags of saline and a dusty old IV stand, but had no way of knowing if she'd recover. As I wiped the dried blood away and attempted to get a read on her pulse. Mike and Raph went back to scouting the web of tunnels attached to the room, while Leo lingered around me, carefully observing the heap of torn armor and bloody flesh that was Karai.

"Think she's gonna make it?" He asked curiously.

"She'd better. This is our bargaining chip." He hummed in understanding, and for a moment, we sat in silence but for the creaking ventilation fans and whirring antique computers around us.

"Your speech was perfect, by the way." I told him, and felt his face light up over my shoulder.

"You think it's going to work?"

"That's a tough call." I sighed. "When was the last time the US government gave up on a pursuit just because their targets had a hostage?" Before he could mull over a response, Mike and Raph came crashing back into the room.

"We found a way out!" Mikey cheered.

"Correction, moron. We found an exit sign." Raph grunted. "But no idea how far it goes. These tunnels run practically through the whole mountain."

And through the whole mountain we strolled, our path lit only by torchlight. The rusty squeak of the cart's tires echoed around the endless hallways as I pushed Karai, her IV stand in the bo staff holder on my back.

"Check this out." Mike waved his torch closer to the beaten canvas journal he'd found in Russ' bags. " _'Today, he asked me why our tattoos look so much like barbed wire. I told him they looked tough, and that's all the answer he was looking for. He'd think the metaphor of being willing to walk through barbed wire for him is too sappy. I mean, he's got to know that I'd give my life away to make sure he was safe. What's a little blood for my beast?'_ "

"Have a little respect for the dead, Mike." Leo ordered flatly. "Why are you reading that anyways?"

"It's cool, finding out the ol' moose was a mega sweetheart. This sounds like some shit you'd write for Donnie." That elicited a laugh from Raph.

"' _I'd do katas for a week nonstop just to smell Don's headband._ '" Raph mocked, and Mike nearly doubled over with laughter.

"That's enough." Leo grumbled with a blush.

Finally, after following the endless path of dim red exit signs, we found a flight of stairs leading up into a bulkhead. Leo and I hoisted Karai's makeshift stretcher up the steps, and Mike cautiously placed a hand on the door handle to check if it was hot. Creaking the latch open, we were greeted by a rush of daylight and smoky air. Overhead, army green helicopters buzzed up from the lake, dropping gallons and gallons of water onto the blaze behind us. Before they could spot us in the small clearing where the rusting bulkhead jutted out from the earth, we rushed back under tree cover.

Our path had put us out where the fire hadn't yet touched, so not being familiar with the area, we simply ran as far from the blaze as we could. Navigating a rickety AV cart through untamed woods was a doozy; we ended up carrying its whole weight through most of our escape. After a while, we stumbled upon a beaten gravel path that, given the state park's current condition, we had faith wouldn't be used by human travellers. Finally able to set the stretcher down, we caught our breath as we continued north at a slower pace. That lasted until, in the distance, a roaring pickup truck kicked up dust down the trail. Hoping we hadn't been sighted yet, we steered off into the bushes as the truck raced closer.

Holding my breath, every fiber of my body was ready to attack or run as we crouched in the dense shrubs just off the path. The crunch of the tires slowed to a halt, but rather than shutting off the engine, the driver turned to reverse, his truck bed stopping just short of the bushes we were in. From the cab, I heard the rear window latch pop open.

"Get in, ya idiots! We don't have all day here!" I poked my head up through the leaves to see Casey's steely eyes in the rearview, and a little three-fingered hand waving excitedly from April's lap. We scrambled into the truck bed, opening the latch to haul Karai up with us, and unfurled a plastic blue tarp left there to cover us as the truck skidded back down the trail.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Don shrieked. "A burning forest is no place for an infant!"

"No place for a turtle, either." April shot back through the window. "We were on the road thirty seconds after we got your email. Other than crashing the gate to get in here, we've been fine."

"I put bull bars on this truck for a reason, babe!" Casey soothed. "Better than driving three hours out here just to turn around 'cause of a fence."

Three hours. It had only taken them three hours to make the distance we'd trekked in days? The land seemed so endless on foot. I could only hope the drive back wouldn't be nearly half as long, suffocating under the sweaty tarp with no seatbelts in the bed of a speeding pickup.

* * *

Not particularly sure if this is the end of MOTB, or if it'll be followed by interludes, or another series, or what.

Thank you for reading, though!


	28. Interlude: Playlist

PLAYLIST

The straight path of I-91 cut through the countryside of western Massachusetts and Connecticut, carrying the Battle Shell over greying fields and through vibrant forests on our route southward. A few weeks had passed by since we'd came out of the woods, so the last green and pale yellow leaves had already turned to red or brown. We'd hid out at the farmhouse, having Casey and April turn over Karai to the FBI when our message got heard. Now, her trial was fully underway, and the four of us had been called in as witnesses, signaling our first return to the city since we'd been chased out.

" _The day I am gone, and the day that I leave, I'll never regret one minute of life._ " The speakers boomed, heavy reggae bass shaking the floor in time with Mikey's head nods from the passenger seat. " _I've learned from the joy, I've learned from the tears. I've walked through the dark, now I see a light."_

"The hell have you been playing summer music for?" Raph grumbled from beside me. "It's like fifty degrees out, Mike."

"Summer is a mentality, dude." He smiled tranquilly from the passenger seat. "Comes from within."

"The city's a mentality, bro. One we haven't tuned into in months." He snatched the iPod from Mike's hands, against his whining protests. "Tell me you ain't missed it." His thumb perused the touchscreen, before pounding down once he found his target.

" _Why you always all on my back? Why you gotta do me like that?_ " The rapper's voice crooned over the marching piano beat. " _Why you gotta act like a bitch when I'm with you? Baby girl, I'm blue._ " Raph mouthed along to the verse, familiar with every twist of the tongue and local Queens slang, before Mike stole the iPod back, sticking his tongue out as he tried to flip through the songs. This elicited a swift kick to the back of the seat from Raph, the headrest whiplashing forward into Mike's neck.

"Easy on the interior!" Don shrieked from the driver's seat. "Since you two clearly can't be trusted with DJ responsibilities, I'll be taking that." He yanked the music cord from Mike and, one eye taken off the road, scrolled through the selections until striking what he was looking for. The drone of a Seventies-era synthesizer laid down a bass line, ushering in a funky drumbeat and the whine of a guitar dripping with wah-pedal effects.

"Donnie…is this the background music to a porno?" Mike asked with genuine conviction. "'Cause I'm picking up some heavy Ron Jeremy vibes right now."

"I'll have you know, in addition to pioneering the funk genre while maintaining the jazz status quo, Herbie Hancock is a student of Japanese Buddhism. I think...'adult film soundtracks' are a bit below him." Don defended.

"Just cause he's a Buddhist don't mean his music ain't boring." Raphael grabbed for the iPod. "How long does this go on for? Fifteen minutes?"

"From 7:45 to 13:15 it's mostly electric piano solo. Just let it play until then?"

"Seven minutes is long enough for my brains to melt out my ears." Mike groaned, trying to nab the device from Raph's hands. "Haven't you heard all musical classics run for five minutes or less? And usually have some lyrics?"

"This sounds kinda familiar, actually. Did John Hancock or whoever steal the beat from Kool G Rap?" Raph noted. That set Don off on a tangent on the dishonesty of hip-hop sampling, which only egged Raph on to play the most aggressive rap songs he could think of, provoking Mike to find more laid-back reggae in an attempt to calm them down.

"Enough!" I barked, and the van went silent. The iPod clattered to the floor, and I stretched forward to pull the cord back onto my lap as I thumbed through the selection. Finally, my eyes met the white and tie-dye of a familiar album, and the seductive Spanish-sounding guitar riff opened through the speakers as the drums entered the loop.

"Japanese producer, East Coast rapper, autumn vibe. Now, everyone shut up and enjoy it." I ordered.

" _Crush coal to a diamond, eyes forever shinin', your beauty alone inspire a nigga to rhymin'._ " The MC crooned, as the beat relaxed into almost elevator music-quality peacefulness. " _Thinking of the better things in life, thinking of how I could persuade you to become my wife, hand in hand, as we floating over tropical sands…_ "

"This is some soft shit." Raph grumbled.

"Not as soft as those few weeks you were a Miguel and The Weeknd buff, Leo." Mike erupted with laughter. "Dancing in the mirror like a high school girl and stuff." I could feel my cheeks glow with heat.

"You mark my words, when it's fifty years in the future and all the kids are bumping music just like them, you'll regret not getting on this new R&B train earlier." I snorted.

"Damn, ol' Fearless is turning into a bigger music snob than the Donster now." Raph cackled.

"For your information, I actually like this song." Don objected. "So keep it down and let me focus on the road for once."

"Sorry, D." Mike pouted. My song choice was cut short by the buzzing of a ringtone, and I slid a finger on the screen to answer the call.

"Casey?" I called out to the speakerphone.

"Sup, dude." His voice boomed over the speakerphone. "We forgot to tell you the alarm code to the apartment when we gave you the key."

"Hasn't stopped us from sneaking in before." Raph shouted.

"Well, just in case the alarm goes off and you get more paparazzi after you than you will already, the code is…uh…" His mouth left the phone, as he asked, "Hey babe, what's the alarm code again?"

"It's our anniversary, remember?" April murmured in the distance.

"Oh…uh…the code is…" he stammered into the phone. "Babe, I know you're gonna hate me for this but…" He was cut off by a sudden thwack, and the phone rustled as it changed hands.

"Code's 0823, boys." April answered.

"Thanks, Ape." I said.

"Tell Casey to put some ice on that!" Mike giggled. "Sounded pretty rough!"

"Have a safe drive, guys. And remember to let us know how the trial goes."

"You got it, April. Take care, alright?" I clicked the red circle to hang up, and seamlessly, the song faded back in.

" _Me, sleeping next to you, resting. You're the personification of all God's blessings, coming to me in just one physical being, one physical dream that I wanna redeem._ " My eyes drifted out the window, where the blaze of forest colors tapered out into the urban edge of Hartford. That marked our journey out of the wilderness, back into the human world.

* * *

Sorry for the hiatus!

Thought a good break from all the action would be by humanizing the Turtles a bit, seeing how they behave like the twenty-somethings they are when they aren't in battle or distress.

For the interested, Mike's song choice is "Open My Eyes" by Soldiers of Jah Army, Raph's is "Baby Blue" by Action Bronson and Chance the Rapper, Don's is "Chameleon" by Herbie Hancock, and Leo's is "Lady Brown" by Nujabes and Cise Starr. All some of my favorite songs, each one representative of each of the brothers in their style and attitude.

Also, bit of a subtle thing, but the lines in Russ' journal last chapter are shamelessly lifted from Allen Stone's "Barbwire". Great enough musician that I figured he deserved the footnote :)

Thanks for reading!


	29. Shadow of a Doubt I: Isolation

Sorry for the hiatus! Work ramped up its hours and school started again, but we trudge on nonetheless!

This new story arc revolves around the pitfalls of the legal system, international crime, fraternal disputes, homesickness, and much much more.

Without further ado, I introduce to you...

* * *

SHADOW OF A DOUBT I: ISOLATION

Now, I understand why humans complain about getting fucked by the government. When we finally arrived in downtown Manhattan and left the Battle Shell in the farthest corner of a parking garage, a swarm of paparazzi blinded us with their camera flashes and deafened us with a roar of questions. My chest tightened; the world of slack jaws and bulging eyes around us made me feel like a caged tiger in a zoo.

"Thought you told 'em no cameras." I grumbled back to Don, pushing the black fleece hood up over my head and sliding on a pair of shades.

"Freedom of the press, bro." He hummed back. "Can't do anything about journalists on a public street."

I stepped in front of my brothers and became a bulldozer, pushing through the crowd in pressured silence until we reached the courthouse steps. We entered the huge stone building, only to find that the trial wasn't expected to start for a couple weeks. The Alien Terrorist Removal Court, Don told us (after explaining to Mike that the government didn't think he was an alien or a terrorist), had never been used since its creation, so naturally assembling the right lawyers and professionals would take a while. They'd only called us in to get some preliminary testimonies, the bailiff explained as he walked us down a maze of halls, and judging by the lack of loose-lipped affiliates of the Foot (other than at the Purple Dragon level) we were set to be the star witnesses.

Leo and Don used that fact to muscle the PA into making some agreements with us. The attorney was an old-school, by-the-books ex-cop type, who didn't let the looks of four mutant turtles in his office throw him off from his duties. Unflinchingly, he shook our hands, not showing any sign he noticed they were three-fingered and scaly. Right off the bat, he sat us down and told us he had an offer to make. There were a couple cases open where, he informed us, we'd been pegged as suspects since the world caught wind of us, mostly stealing power and water from public utilities or using bounced credit cards from pizza places, and our testimonies were valuable enough for them to offer us a clean slate in exchange. All he asked in return was every last drop of info about Karai and the Foot, from when we first met, to what kinds of loot were in Oroku Tower the last time we'd been there, to how close she really was with the Purple Dragons. While we didn't have any evidence or photos to back up what we said, the desktop camera continued to roll as we said everything we knew.

As much as we'd dealt with the Orokus, the Foot, and the Purple Dragons over the years, there was a lot we didn't know. Splinter's stories were all we had to go on for any time before the last five years, and even then, it's not like we saw Karai on a daily basis. We knew about her inner circle, Hun, Stockman, Chaplin and them, but anyone below that tier was nameless and faceless to us (though Casey and I saw enough of the bottom-level goons on the street that I could tell the PA where to find them.) From our first brush with Foot ninjas on the rooftops, to Leo and I burning their warehouse down a couple months back, we rattled off any dealings with Karai and her clan that we could think of.

Three hours later, after every possible detail was covered, the PA slid a thick manila folder across the desk, with Karai's name on the divider. The papers carried her face and name, along with some of her dad, and half a century's worth of accusations and investigations between the two. Certain things were missing, like their moving of Leo's pills from overseas onto the street, but the folder was practically a storybook covering their lives and exploits. Somehow, despite the government keeping close tabs on them since they first set foot in the US, the Oroku family had avoided really being caught until now. I was in awe; they'd given Karai a contract to help hunt mutants down, basically knowing what she was capable of, and let her rock until she burned some trees down. Would they have even put her on trial if we hadn't survived, and Leo hadn't put that video up calling her out? All it took was one count of arson and reckless endangerment, and the government shut her down in one fell swoop, slamming her with every charge from terrorism to customs fraud.

Of course, Karai being in a holding cell didn't mean she was defeated, and it didn't mean we were safe. Her cronies broke into our lair just a couple months ago, and would be looking for us more than ever once word got out that we were witnesses. That kind of situation happens often to witnesses, according to the PA, but hiding four turtles wouldn't be as easy as wigs and a new house, or whatever they give to humans in witness protection. If I'd ever had a positive opinion of the government, it died and got buried by the next beige folder the attorney slid our way. The state had picked a private island off the market, way up in the Thousand Islands, and apparently that was the only place they could keep us until after the trial, and possibly later if the threat from the Foot didn't subside.

Really? After getting chased out of the city, into the woods, and coming crawling back home, they were kicking us out again? We didn't have any other options, but that didn't stop me from feeling bitter as we were ushered to a back door, where a convoy of blacked-out SUVs waited for us. Each of us were handed tickets for a private flight from LaGuardia to Watertown, and another for a helicopter trip out of Watertown to an unlisted destination. That, I assumed, would be what we were to call home for a while.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	30. Shadow of a Doubt II: Island

SHADOW OF A DOUBT II: ISLAND

* * *

Three point one acres. Five hundred feet long by two hundred feet wide. One eight-bedroom house, one side cottage, and a vacant two-bay boathouse. Four hundred feet from the nearest island, and a mile and a half from the river's shore. This was our prison, our new home. The helicopter dropped us off unceremoniously, with the pilot tossing us four keys in an envelope and informing us that rations and deliveries would be left in the boathouse every Sunday. While there weren't any guards or chaperones to keep us on the island, we were told the Coast Guard trawled the Canadian border a few hundred feet to the west, and any movement into or out from the island would be noticed. Just as quickly as it landed, the copter left us alone on Whiskey Island.

The only sounds around for miles were wind and water. This far north, the late autumn breeze carried a much cooler touch than any reptile could feel comfortable in, so we trudged out of the field we'd been dropped in toward the red-boarded house over the hill.

"Big fuckin' house for four dudes." Raph scoffed. He wasn't wrong; the lodge was three stories high and wrapped around with a long patio, clearly more suited to host guests than to be a four-person home.

"Speak for yourself, big guy. I could get used to having a quarter of all that space to myself." Mike gave a half-hearted grin. "Beats sharing a mattress in a corner of a sewer depot like when we were kids, that's for sure." Up the green-stained wooden steps we marched, and Leo popped his key into the sliding door, where warm, smoky air rushed out to greet us.

The inside was rustic, yet well appointed. All the walls were natural wood, and the couches and chairs arranged around the fireplace were in good condition, if dated back a couple generations. Around the corner was a vibrant yellow sunroom, with a weathered piano in the corner past the wicker furniture that surrounded a flat-screen on the wall. All in all, the house screamed, "exclusive WASP getaway inherited from a grandparent", and while satellite TV may have been enough to satisfy Mikey, I felt entirely out of place. On the flight, I'd browsed around to find out more about the island, and learned it was a private island that changed hands between mostly aristocrat families until the government picked it up in an auction ten years prior. Clearly, they hadn't touched much since then.

Without a laboratory, or even a decent computer, I likened myself to Robinson Crusoe, or Tom Hanks in Castaway. Sure, I had my phone and laptop, but there wasn't enough CPU to play Minecraft without severe lag, let alone the games I actually enjoyed, or the bulky software I used for 3D design and data analytics. This island wasn't made for a scientist, any more than it was made for a ninja or a turtle. How was I supposed to spend my days?

"Let's look on the bright side." Leo offered. "We get a little while to forget about the Foot, relax, and focus back on our training."

"Not much room for a dojo in here." Raph snorted. "Besides, what kind of training could we even do? All we've got is our weapons."

"You were the one who incorporated bare-knuckle boxing into our training, Raph. Lack of equipment never stopped a ninja from performing at his best." Leo countered. "For now, let's get this fireplace going and see what there is to make for dinner. No use arguing if we're cold and starving."

Mike and Raph wandered into the kitchen to see what Witness Protection had left in the fridge for us, while Leo stoked the wood stove, and I dusted off the piano to plink around a bit. Not overly familiar with the instrument, I'd taught my self a semblance of the basics on a similar-looking antique upright in Casey's farmhouse. My fingers stretched out to meet the black keys as I prodded how an E-flat minor would sound on such an out-of-tune old thing. Warm crept into the room as Leo set the kindling and newspaper alight, and I paused to recall just how the melody in my head went. Dave Brubeck's "Take Five" was probably the one piece I'd credit with starting my infatuation with jazz; Mike had found its vinyl in a heap of trash from a record store in the dump when we were kids, and was using it to play Frisbee with Raph until I snatched it out of the air and brought it home. Despite its complexity, it was one of the first pieces I'd taught myself to play.

My left hand bounced to start the grooving bass line, and after a few measures, led in the main riff with my right. Leo's interest was piqued, and he treaded lightly over to behind my shoulder, as if trying not to interrupt. Somehow, my audience of one made it much more challenging to focus on keeping a five-four beat. Apparently sensing my distraction, his hands landed gently on my ribs as he wrapped his ropey arms around my shell. In a moment, I tensed up and became an icicle.

"Don't stop." A husky breath landed in my ear, and I tried my damnedest to focus enough to obey. His fingertips drifted lower. "I love hearing you play."

"You're not making it easy." I stammered, and a chuckle escaped his lips before they planted on my neck.

"Mike and I are gonna go check out the boathouse." Raph leaned into the room, not particularly flinching at the sight of us. "Frozen pizzas are in the oven, so try to finish before the timer goes off, alright?"

"Alright." Leo attempted to sound unfazed. We could hear Raph faintly laughing as the screen door slammed behind him. I closed the creaking wooden cover over the keys, and placed a palm on Leo's cheek to break its lock on my collarbone, bringing his mouth up to meet mine.


	31. Shadow of a Doubt III: Investigation

SHADOW OF A DOUBT III: INVESTIGATION

Mike sat on the railing of the boathouse's balcony, legs swaying playfully as he stared westward at the last rays of sunset over the river. His brow furrowed as he squinted through the binoculars we'd found on the motorboat docked inside. I was hunched over it beside him, thumbing through some shopping sites on my phone.

"Can't believe I gotta wait 'til Sunday to get a carton of smokes delivered." I grunted.

"Thought you quit?" Mike shot back.

"Well, how else am I supposed to spend my time here, in the middle of fuckin' nowhere? Trekking with Russ and Steele was enough wilderness for a lifetime; now we're trapped up here 'til the Feds cut our leashes."

"It sucks, bro." He nodded. The wind whistled by as we lingered there in silence, watching the few boats on the water trawl on by. This place would've made a nice getaway for someone looking to escape the city, but all my heart wanted was to get back home. Casey and April's old apartment would have been close enough; not expecting to get shuttled out to the boondocks "for our own protection", we'd planned on crashing there until the sewers were safe enough to return.

The purr of a boat engine entered quietly from the edge of the water, gradually becoming louder as a little white motorboat sped into our field of view. It whipped up a huge trail of wake, before suddenly slowing to a stop about a hundred yards in front of us, right in the center of the river's opening, where a larger fishing boat nestled alongside it.

"The hell's going on over there?" I pointed, distracting Mike from the geese he was peering at.

"Looks like…" he squinted. "…Some kind of business deal. The dude on the smaller boat just got handed a suitcase, and now they're putting boxes onto the bigger one. Looks like he's wearing a ski mask, too."

"Give me those." I snatched the binoculars from his hands, and peered through to see what he described. There was definitely something fishy going on; but the details were just barely visible in the twilight. "I gotta get a closer look. This shit doesn't sit right with me."

"Can we take the boat?" Mike's eyes lit up. "Please?"

"You don't think they'd notice that behemoth coming up on them?" I huffed back. "Come on, follow me if you can keep up." I dove in with a splash, the brisk water sending a chill down my spine before I adjusted to the temperature and kicked off. The two of us slowed our movement as we approached the vessels. I tapped Mike's shoulder to get his attention, gesturing to myself and the motorboat, then to him and the larger one. To show him what I meant, I latched onto a handle on the far side of the vessel, and likewise he grabbed the anchor across from me.

The propeller on the motor kicked to life just moments after we'd arrived, and the two of us parted as our boats ran their separate ways. The force of the quick acceleration threatened to rip me off, but my grip held strong until I knew the two boats weren't in sight of each other. After several minutes, just as my feet were beginning to brush the sandy river bottom, I let go, and was tossed in the wake like a ragdoll. Surfacing with an air-hungry gasp, I watched the boat pull into an inlet dock at what looked like a tiny river cabin, one lone lantern hanging above the door. The three masked men disembarked, one holding his weighty metal suitcase in both hands.

It felt like it'd been forever since I pulled a solo mission. While I didn't have the helmet or suit on hand, my mind went instantly back to its Nightwatcher mode: alert, focused, and ready to kick some ass. As they approached the door to the cabin, I pulled myself onto the bank and ducked behind a tree. Waiting until the multiple locks were unfastened and the door was ajar, I picked up a rock and whipped it into the neck of the man holding the suitcase, charging toward them. With a cry, he dropped to the ground, and the other two turned around, reaching to holsters on their waistbands, only to be met with punches to the stomach. As they keeled over, I smashed their heads together, and entered through the cabin door unchallenged.

What looked quaint and dated from the outside was treacherous on the inside. Factory-fresh assault rifles and submachine guns were mounted on a rack by the door. The rest of the room was just boxes, but their contents were even more worrisome. Knock-off cigarettes with no tax stamps, powders and plants bundled in plastic wrap, enough hollow-point bullets for a South American country, glass vials of pills (some looking exactly like what we'd found in the Foot warehouse a while back), and even a few cases of what seemed to be plastic explosive. Treading back to the door, I fished the keychain off the unconscious goon's belt, and cracked the briefcase open. Too many bills to count, all tightly wadded by rubber bands, stared back at me like a grass-green seductress. Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, I couldn't tear my gaze away until I heard tires crushing gravel down the road behind the building.

In a heartbeat, I dragged the blacked-out bodies and the suitcase into the building, pulled a rifle off its rack and a loaded clip from a stack below them. The door slammed shut, and back into the river I trudged, around the corner of the dock where I could stand unseen with the gun above the water. A braking sound came from the road, one door opened, and one set of boots hopped out. A driver wondering where his passengers had gone.

" _All_ _ô_ _?"_ a baritone called out as he came around the cabin. " _Gar_ _ç_ _ons?_ _Êtes-vous ici?"_ As he came up to the door and saw its unlocked state, I leaned my head into the dock and peered down the gun's rail. He was a long-haired man in a leather jacket, though all colors were unclear in the shadows of the early night. " _Tabarnak!"_ he called out, and just as he whipped his head around to find whoever had opened the door, I squeezed the trigger and released it. A fraction of a second later, he was down, clutching his foot just as I had planned. Before he could pull the pistol from his jacket, I hoisted myself up and rolled onto the land, sprinting toward him before his eyes could identify me. The barrel of my gun rested in his mouth, and his groans of pain stopped as he looked up at me.

"I'm giving you 'til the count of three, and you're gonna tell me who you work for, where all the shit inside came from, and who gave your friends that briefcase of money. One. Two." I pulled the gun from his mouth. "Three."

" _Va chier."_ The man spat, and as his eyes shut in a wince as I spun the gun around and smacked his temple with the stock. He went out like a light, and I opened the door again to toss his body on the pile of his associates. I stepped gingerly over a leg to grab the briefcase, a couple (well, more than a couple) cartons of smokes, and what looked to me like about an ounce of some of their better-smelling herb. Debating whether or not to drop the rifle I'd slung over my shoulder, I threw a few magazines into the box of cigarettes, then shut the door and clicked shut the heavy padlocks. I thumbed through the keys on the chain I'd taken earlier until I found one matching the make of the motorboat, tossed my loot on the passenger seat, and clicked the key. The engine roared to life, and the bow lifted up out of the surf like a muscle car on its rear wheels as I raced off into the darkness.

* * *

Perpetually sorry for the wait! Winter break just started so buckle up for more!


	32. Shadow of a Doubt IV: Intrigue

SHADOW OF A DOUBT IV: INTRIGUE

"The Coast Guard. The fucking Coast Guard." He paced back and forth in front of me, his feet practically burning a hole through the weathered wooden deck. "You see the people sent here to make sure we don't leave the island, and you jump on their boat. What were you thinking?"

"You weren't there, Leo. You didn't see how this deal was going down. I didn't see the big 'Coast Guard' written on the side until we were already tailing them. Plus, the other guys had ski masks on, bro!" I objected. "Wearing one of those anywhere but a ski resort is like a billboard for 'Hey, I'm up to some suspect shit!'"

"And what kind of 'suspect shit' did you find on a Coast Guard patrol, Mike?" Leo steamed. I dropped the towel from my waist and fished out my Shell Cell from the pocket in my sash. Pulling up a picture on screen and wiping the water droplets from the airtight case, I flashed it before Leo's eyes. "What's that supposed to be? A generator?"

"It's a bomb, dude. The same casings Raph and I found planted in the Foot Lab where we found Donny." His eyes squinted to make out the details on the screen, then shot up to meet mine, then back to the screen.

"You're absolutely certain it's a bomb?"

"Those square parts on the corners were full of either Semtex or cheese. And it sure didn't taste like any cheese I'd eaten before."

"It still doesn't make any sense. Why would the government be buying this from some shady group of Canadians?"

"Maybe they don't want it to look like it's them bombing apartment buildings to weed out the Foot. I don't know. If anything, it says we've gotta look deeper into this."

"I get that, Mike. Under normal circumstances, I'd already have my swords out. But right now, the government is basically holding us prisoner. We can't expect them to keep us alive if we're uncovering their black ops and disobeying their rules."

"So, you expect us to sit here and let those boats go buy, let more innocent New Yorkers get blown up, just so we don't get in trouble?"

"They're not hunting for the Foot anymore, right? Now that they've got Karai, what would they need these for?"

"You're asking me, dude? If I had to guess, there's probably tons of people the Feds would love to blow up and make it look like it was someone else. These could be going anywhere in the country. Hell, the world, even. All the more reason to find out what's really going on."

"You're not a superhero right now, Michelangelo, and Raph's not a vigilante. Right now, we're all witnesses. And the best way for us to save people's lives is to stay low-key until Karai's trial. Then, once she's locked up and there's no Foot to worry about, we can look into this."

"God dammit, you're not listening to me at all!" I bellowed in his face. "For a so-called leader, you sure do sound like a fucking pussy right now! Maybe you can sit here like a bitch and let this happen, but I sure as hell can't!"

"Shit, Mike. What happened, you let Raph nut in you a couple times and now you walk and talk just like him?" My jaw clenched as I held back a growl. "You're still the baby brother, taking orders like a good soldier, just from him now instead of me."

"You're crazy, Leo! You don't know what the hell you're talking about." I seethed. "Get back on your crazy pills, dude; at least you were more fun when you were fucked up all the time."

"Oh yeah? You'd rather have me overdose again than listen to me and respect my orders?"

"Maybe. At least you were a better kisser back then." I sneered like a devil.

"What makes you think you know how I kiss now?" He screamed back. Then, after a moment's pause, he said quietly, "Wait, how would you know how I kiss to begin with?"

"Our birthday, dude? I figure you wouldn't remember, given what happened afterward, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"What didn't happen?" His eyes opened wide.

"This." I leaned in, and he stayed frozen, his face still in a half-curious half-grimace. My lips planted on his, and as they plied open, I gently slid my tongue in to coax his into a dance. It lasted only a second or two before I pulled away, and my eyes opened to meet his, still dinner-plate wide and locked on my lips. "See, I knew you were better before."

"How…why…what?" He stammered.

"Now, before you run off and try to kill yourself like last time, I'm still covered in cold river muck and am absolutely dying for a hot shower." I turned and made my way to the door, chucking my towel at his feet as I stepped outside to get back to the house. Before I shut the door, I looked over my shoulder, and added, "Feel free to join me if you come to your senses." The door slammed, and I left him in the boathouse, just as the purr of Raph's boat's engine approached from the water.

As the door shut, I stopped dead in my tracks. Had my attempt to stick up for myself really worked? I'd gone from confident to angry to stupid to horny all in, like, fifteen seconds. Truthfully, I'd spent the better part of the swim back to the island thinking about what I'd have to say to Leo when I faced him, and kissing him definitely wasn't a part of that script. I hadn't even really paid attention to any feelings like that for Leo since our Mutation Day party. Yet, something about holding power over my oldest brother, even if that power was just hurting his feelings to try and get him to listen, gave me a mini power-trip.

By the time I could find the best shower in the house's maze of mad old rooms and get the hot water running, someone opened the door just as I closed the curtain. I half-expected it to be Leo. But something about the leathery grit of the hands that clasped my collarbones as he stepped in behind me said otherwise.

"You're never gonna guess what I got." Raph muttered over my shoulder. "The goons with the masks had a little place filled to the top with guns, drugs, money…shit, just about everything. Some smuggled smokes, some plastic explosive."

"Who were they?"

"Can't really say. The dude who came to pick them up was speaking French. Tall, dark, long hair…They all looked like that too. Like sunburnt Casey Joneses." He laughed to himself. "What kinda Canadians look like that?"

"Natives?" I offered.

"Indians? You mean they have those up here?" He made a dumbfounded face, as he cracked open a bottle of body wash and started to lather my neck and shell.

"Back with the Force, we caught a heroin pusher who got all his shit from Canada, and brought it in through a border crossing up around here that's run by the Mohawk Tribe. Allegedly, this neck of the Saint Lawrence was where booze was smuggled in during Prohibition. Figures there'd be some hush-hush stuff going on up here, but…what would Natives have to do with it?"

"Have to do with what?"

"The boat I trailed…Raph, the government's been buying bombs from these dudes. They're the same ones we found in the air vents up in that Two Bridges high-rise."

"You gotta be kidding me." He deadpanned.

"No lie, dude. This is fucking heavy."

"No shit it's heavy! The Feds plant bombs to take out the Foot, then hire Karai to hunt us down, then they throw her in jail, then they buy more bombs? Who's gonna die next?"

"None of it makes any sense, bro. We got a lot of digging to do."

"You mean we're leaving the island?"

"Well, we can't not leave the island. Now that we know this, if we do nothing, we'll be part-responsible for however many civilian die when the next tower goes up in smoke."

"What about Einstein and Fearless?"

"Well, we might be able to convince Donny."

"That reminds me…" Raph leaned forward to look me in the eyes. "What'd you say to Leo? He didn't give me the usual business for sneaking off without his permission when I got to shore."

"Oh yeah?"

"Didn't say a word. I could hear you two shouting from the water, though."

"Uh, I just told him to suck it, 'cause we're all practically adults now and we can make our own choices."

"Nice."


	33. Shadow of a Doubt V: Interconnection

Shadow of a Doubt V: Interconnection

Whoever had lived here before us was some kind of radio enthusiast, with CB's and HAM's littered across the desk in their den ranging from antiques to more recent digital models. While I wasn't overly familiar with such dated tech, one of the less dusty interfaces was pretty intuitive for an untrained beginner. Hearing only faint static when I flicked it on, I hit the scan button and listened as it flickered through the wavelengths. Still, nothing beyond white noise came out. A button labeled "SBC" sat on the bottom row of controls; I'd heard of sub-band coding before, but never figured a use for digital encryption on radio airwaves. Clicking it on, the soft roar of radio feedback continued as the channels got chopped up and sampled together.

"Sup, nerd?" My back jolted upright as I spun around hastily in the office chair. Raphael leaned in the doorway, a briefcase in hand and a devilish grin plastered across his mug. "Wanna see something cool?"

"I swear. Raph, if Mikey put you up to some kind of juvenile prank…" He slammed the case on the desk before me, and unfastened the latches, revealing a veritable pile of banded bills.

"Forty-eight thousand dollars. No prank." He smirked. "I figure since you kinda run the finances, you should take care of it."

"What…what on earth am I gonna do with this much cash? More importantly, where the hell did you get it from?"

"You ain't gonna like this." He chewed his lip momentarily. "Mike and I scoped out a Coast Guard ship trading this to some Natives for a bomb. The same one someone planted in that Foot lab back in Two Bridges."

"Are you serious?"

"No, I shat out fifty grand and used two to wipe. C'mon, egghead, what do you think we should do?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes tightly, trying to process everything.

"Well, one thing's for sure. We're not going up against the US military. It's absolutely impossible. But this does need investigation. These Natives, what were they like?"

"Big, ugly, and armed to the teeth. Had a little shack across the river packed full of guns, drugs, and smokes. Oh, Semtex too, a shit ton."

"Well…fuck." I heaved a bemoaning sigh. "We've dealt with some twisted people before, but not even the Shredder went around blowing up apartments. If we can't find out where the bomb is going, at the very least we have to find out where it came from."

"Agreed, and Mikey thinks so too. Thing is, Fearless apparently ain't too keen on leaving the island."

"I can't blame him. But I'll see what I can…" The roulette of static channels finally stopped spinning, as an accented voice cut through.

"…and one caught a bullet through the fucking foot."

"A man in green, you say?" Another replied.

"They weren't making much sense, but it sure sounds like someone in your…organization isn't playing ball."

"That's bullshit. Every unit within a hundred miles has at least someone on payroll. This wasn't our men."

"Well, whoever did it, we haven't seen shit like 'em on our side of the border, and they have all the cash. You know how much fent we'll have to push to make half that back?"

"We'll work something out, just hold tight. But trash the safe house, move the next load to Saint-Regis, and we'll see you in a week."

"Take care of those motherfuckers first, and we'll see about another load."

"Look, we can make sure we aren't getting tailed. But whoever did this, civilians, a few random straight arrows…It's not like we can just report this up the chain of command. It's all black ops."

"Well, that just makes your job harder then, don't it? We ain't talking again unless the money's back in our hands."

The channel went silent, and the radio went back to surfing through frequencies. Raph and I finally broke our stares from the speaker, and locked eyes.

"That was fast." He coughed in surprise. "That froggy-sounding fuck has the same stupid accent as the guys I took out. Shit, bro…you think we're still safe here?"

"Well, it sounds like this runs pretty deep, but some corrupt splinter of the Coast Guard can't rightly go door to door, asking if anyone intercepted their money. I'm far more worried about the Canadians." I pulled out my phone, writing a note of what channel we'd heard the chatter on. "But one thing's for sure: the same people are meeting in a week, and we've got to stop whatever they're trading from making it into the country."

One thing I'd learned from being the "brains" of our operations was that Leo didn't like to make a move unless we had all the details. I combed some satellite maps and learned that Saint-Regis was as big of a border loophole as the US and Canada could afford to maintain: a Mohawk reservation straddling two provinces and a state, with a peninsula jutting into Quebec, but no Customs station between it and New York. Raph informed me that the "fent" these men had mentioned "pushing" was, more likely than not, fentanyl: a wildly powerful opiate that'd been creeping its way into the black market from China and Mexico (and, apparently, Canada).

Poring over the internet for any more relevant info, I stumbled upon an obscure blog devoted to some wild conspiracy theories mentioning something about Akwesasne, as Saint-Regis' inhabitants called it. In an "exclusive interview" with a "CIA whistleblower", a group called the Mohawk Warrior Society was propped up in Quebec with the intention of becoming a stay-behind paramilitary in the event of Quebec seceding from Canada. Drugs, guns, and money were going in both directions as far back as the late '70s. Born out of a fear any far-left state forming so close to the US in the peak of the Cold War, the sketchy website called the group "the Canadian Gladio", referring to a post-WWII plan for similar groups in Europe. Apparently, ties were cut after an incident in 1990 where a Canadian soldier was shot in a 78-day standoff with the Mohawks. The lack of US-forced stability in the Quebec underworld set the fuse for the bloody Biker War that was taking place when the article was written in the '90s.

My gut instinct when dealing with websites such as the one I'd been perusing is always skepticism, especially when there's no other corroborating evidence to back it up. This, though, was relatively deep in an archive of sites since washed from the expanses of the Internet, and lined up almost perfectly with a constellation of real, well-documented events. Raph was convinced the post was genuine from the moment he laid eyes on it, as was Mikey when we consulted him.

"Alright, shot-not telling Leo we're going to stop these scums." He lifted a finger to his nose, and Raph followed suit in an instant. "He wasn't feeling it when I told him about it earlier."

I grumbled in defeat, but knowing the two of them, I probably had the best shot convincing Leo anyways. Down the stairs I plodded gently, finding him reading in front of the fireplace.

"Hey." I meekly broke his concentration.

"Hey, Don." He shifted upright on the sofa, folding a dog ear into the book and setting it on his lap.

"Mike said you were…less than pleased with the conversation earlier."

"That's one way to put it." His expression tightened, eyes narrowing.

"Well, I get that it's not what any of us had planned for when we came here. But Raph and I just overheard something and…well, I took a little convincing at first, but he shook any doubts I had."

"He what?" He barked, exasperated. "Wait, you didn't know about it until now either?"

"Well, you know those two, leave them unsupervised and they're bound to do something unorthodox, at best. Now that we all know about it, I don't know about you, but I can't just stand by and let it happen."

"Donatello…I can't believe what I'm hearing. You know better than anyone else that I wasn't in a good place when it happened the first time. Now, Mike forces himself on me again, and you let Raph do the same to you?" He stood up abruptly and whipped the book to the ground, pushing me aside and marching toward the stairs. "This little game ends now."

I wasn't sure my brain processed the last few sentences properly. After a moment, I chased Leo up the stairs, stammering, "Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait, no, I've talking about the bombs and money!"


	34. Shadow of a Doubt VI: Innocuous

Shadow of a Doubt VI: Innocuous

Mike and I were huddled around Don's laptop, hunting for anything else we could find on bombs, opiates, and Mohawks. Turns out, in the couple months we were tramping around the forest, Don had fingered seven more 'mysterious' explosions happened in otherwise unremarkable areas: four in and around the City, two in Cali, and one in Texas. All of them were written off as gas leaks or drug labs gone haywire, exactly the same excuses used for the Foot Labs, and no article ever showed photos of the scene post-bomb. Semtex, we learned, at least when it's old or cooked up clandestinely, doesn't leave any particular mark or trace once it blows. Most other explosions, like those in actual accidents, are pretty easy to find the cause. That meant one of two things: either a lot of meth cooks and gas stove owners got careless in the last few months, or the cops and firefighters knew about these places beforehand and covered them up on purpose.

Looking at the addresses, the bombs all went off in places we'd seen the Foot work before: waterfront warehouses and high-rise penthouses. Out of the blue, I heard shouting coming from downstairs, and we broke our gaze on the screen to look toward the doorway as stomps approached us. Leo stormed up, an angry glare so animal on his face it made Mike stifle a startled yelp. Before he could trudge in, Donny practically flung himself over Leo's shoulders.

"Can you hear me? That's not what happened Leo, no one's kissing anybody! Raph didn't do anything!" He pleaded, before the unfazed Fearless plucked him up by his sash and tossed him to the floor.

"Then what did he do on our birthday…" an accusatory finger lifted toward Mikey. "...and what just happened in the kitchen?"

"You were both drunk as fuck, and neither of us knew you were all strung out and shit." I stepped in front of Mikey as he gasped, unresponsive. "That's what happened."

"Okay." He seethed. "And no one bothered to let me know. Alright. Then what about thirty minutes ago?" Don and I raised our eyebrows.

"What are you saying?" I growled, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Mike's face start to pale to ghost white. "What's he talking about, Mike?"

"I…Uh…" his eyes shifted from corner to corner. "I said some…pretty mean stuff. And did something I promised I wasn't gonna do again." Now he looked to his toes. "And I'm sorry."

" _At least you were more fun when you were fucked up all the time._ " Leo's eyes were scrunched tightly shut as he recited. " _Feel free to join me in the shower if you come to your senses_."

"I said I was sorry!" Mike practically bawled. "And you said I was taking orders from Raph, like I couldn't possibly think for myself!"

" _Before you run off and try to kill yourself like last time…_ " Leo finally opened his eyes. "Can you not see how that would fuck with me? As if the kiss alone wouldn't have done that enough."

"You fucking kissed him again?" I screamed in his face, leaning in as he cowered back. "What's wrong with you, Mike?" My fist willed its way through the wooden wall, and the whole room went silent as a ringing phone echoed from downstairs. All of us flew down the hall and into the kitchen, where Don hit the speaker button just before the last ring.

"Hello?"

"Sorry to bother you this late, boys." The gruff voice confirmed what we'd been told: the only people who knew our number or whereabouts were Witness Protection and their superiors. "Unfortunately, there's been some complications in the case."

"What kind of complications?" Donny gulped.

"The homes of a couple court officials were destroyed earlier tonight. Everyone's okay, but the time they're taking off is going to drag out the trial by a week or so at least. We're increasing security, and alerting the Coast Guard to keep a more constant presence around your location, just to be safe."

"Out of curiosity, sir, we shouldn't expect anyone to come ashore unless it's for a delivery, right?" I hoisted myself onto the countertop. "Just for my own sense of well-being."

"That's correct, unless they perceive you're in trouble. Then they'll do whatever's necessary to protect you."

"That's reassuring, thank you." Mike shot back. "And my condolences to your co-workers. What was it that happened to their houses, exactly?"

"Oh, it's tragic, really. Still under investigation, but I'm hearing they both look like gas leaks."

"Give them our best wishes." Don clicked to end the farce. "Okay, there's definitely a serious conversation that has to happen between Mike and Leo in the near future, but first we need to get the hell out of here."

"Oh, you all decided we're leaving?" Leo grumbled.

"What I was trying to tell you earlier was that Raph and I overheard radio chatter earlier from the guys with the bombs and money. They found out about Raph taking the money, and they're meeting again about two hours down river from here. The Coast Guard, or whoever they're smuggling the bombs for, has now blown up nine buildings across the country since we've been back to the Lair. And hearing that the very same Coast Guard is about to show up here in droves, I'd say it's in all of our best interests to get all our belongings onto the boat and get the hell out of here."

Leo just blinked, perceiving how elegantly he'd just been undermined.

"Glad I didn't unpack yet." I swung myself back to my feet. "See you on the boat in five."

Like clockwork, everyone gathered their luggage (really just our phones, weapons, clothes, and Don's laptop) and some supplies from the house and stashed it in the cabin of the boat.

"Why do you think they told us there was only a canoe here?" Mike asked, setting the hefty radio Don had used on the countertop. The whole cabin was about the size of a bedroom in the Lair, the queen-size bed only about five feet away from the galley and the door to the deck.

"Nothing makes sense about this place." I spat, grabbing the binoculars and heading to the bow as Leo turned off all the lights in the boathouse and hopped aboard. Now cloaked in pure black, Don hit the button by the bay door to make clack upward, and grabbed my outstretched hand to climb on deck as each ascending slat bathed us in another inch of moonlight. Once the racket stopped, I peered out through the binoculars onto the water for signs of any boats or lights. "Nothing out here." I muttered in a low tone.

"Good." Don whispered back, and I followed him to the bridge. "I found the user's manual online, and it looks like this is a hybrid model. We should be able to keep it in low gear and stay silent."

"Didn't realize they made Priuses for water now." I mused.

"Only for ecologically conscious millionaires." He flicked on a few switches as he consulted the diagrams on his phone. "Or smugglers trying to keep quiet. Who else would paint a motor yacht matte grey?" Pushing the throttle slightly forward, the boat crept forward, the only noise coming from the gentle ripples of wake behind us. I paced around to the back of the boat and pressed to close the door once we'd cleared it, and we were off.

Despite having never (to my knowledge) captained a ship in his life, Don's big brain didn't disappoint as he steered us between islands and through channels to keep us as invisible as possible, splitting his focus between the GPS and the subtle murmur of Leo and Mike's conversation in the cabin.

"So…are you still angry with Mike?" he interrupted the silence of the river.

"Yeah…You kidding me? The first time, he says it's a drunk fluke, and I believe him. Now, he does it sober, and makes me think he was lying to my face when he promised it wouldn't happen again."

"I can see why you'd be upset."

"To think I walked into the shower and locked lips with him right after he did the same to Leo…Yuck." I spat overboard for effect. "Better not catch crazy."

"I don't think that's how 'crazy' works." Don laughed to himself. "You're really that revolted by getting close with someone other than Mikey?"

"I didn't say that." My eyes narrowed. "Just prefer to know who's spit I'm swapping. Why you asking?"

"Just curious." He turned his eyes back to the GPS. "When Mike told me what he did with Leo on our birthday, he mentioned telling you. You said something about doing the same thing to me for revenge?"

"That…uh…" What the hell was he digging at? I crossed my arms. "Yeah, I said that. Mostly to get Mike jealous. But that don't mean I'm gonna start acting like him and forcing myself on you. As far as I'm concerned, Mike is…mine. and I don't know the nitty-gritty of what you and Leo got going on, but this is the longest he and I have gone without a fight, and I'm not looking to give him a reason to go off."

"Hold on." Don turned his concentration away from the wheel. "When you say Mike's 'yours', do you mean it in a poetic sense, like 'I am yours and you are mine", or in a proprietary sense, like he's an object?"

"I mean it in a 'however the fuck I wanna mean it" sense. Fuck, Don, I open myself up to you and you just keep pokin' around?"

Apparently, I was starting to shout. Don held a finger up to shush me, and both Leo and Mike turned in their seats to look toward me, having heard through the cabin windows.

"You didn't answer my question." He practically whispered.

"Shit, Don, you're asking me the difference between love and greed. I know you've got a better answer for that than I do. What we have, and what you two have, it's not something I can compare to what's 'normal', like what Casey and April have. And it ain't what Splinter taught us when he used the word 'love'."

"Love was something we all shared." He stared into the moon's reflection in the water. "

"Damnit, he got to you too?" I half-joked.

"Just playing devil's advocate. Trying to wrap my head around what's making Mike do what he did. Plus, for what it's worth, the first time Leo and I tried anything, I didn't imagine it'd unfold into two separate marriages. Seemed like just fooling around at the time."

"Wait, seriously?"

"I don't know about you, but when my sex drive first kicked in, I was willing to feed it any and every fantasy my mind could churn out. I'll admit Leo was at the forefront in the beginning, but…well, I mean, look at you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I blushed.

"To quote you, 'however the fuck I wanna mean it'."


End file.
